The Man of Twists and Turns
by d1x1lady
Summary: After the disastrous end of the Triwizard Tournament, the Order of the Phoenix seeks recruits. At her first meeting, an American witch witnesses one of Severus Snape's reports and becomes fascinated by the icy, ill-used spy.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Aside from Marian, I regretfully do not own any of the characters.

Warning: This is primarily a slow-building romance and contains very little foul language, although sexual themes and wartime violence are present.

Author's Notes: The story begins in the summer after _Goblet of Fire_. Canon compliant until this point, and generally sticks to the storyline afterward, but I _am_ introducing a new character, and her decisions may alter a few people's destinies ("A butterfly flaps its wings in Peking..."). This is a very long story, and lacks a few chapters before it is complete. I am going to release five or so a day until I get all the back-material posted (I have 38 chapters already written). Chapters are of variable length. This is my first fanfiction and I hope someone out there enjoys it.

Chapter 1: The General

It was a small and quiet house, located in a copse of trees on the outskirts of Glastonbury. Marian thought it would do nicely to keep up appearances. She had finished the protective charms that evening, and connected its Floo to her permanent home, a stone bungalow nestled in the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains, protected by the Fidelius Charm. Marian had set up this little English residence as a display for visitors, but she Flooed back every night to her secure home across the Atlantic, where she kept her puppy, most of her clothes and the bed she actually used.

Marian had come to England expecting a war, and she was taking no chances. If someone did manage to break her wards, they would find a decorated house with refreshments in the kitchen, but very little else. She had made money in the last few years, especially with her last job, which had been very dangerous, unraveling a myriad of curses on priceless wizarding treasures as part of a dragon's hoard. No fewer than five curse-breakers had been killed before Marian, but she was confident in her abilities, and had grimly determined to take her chances, after her realization that she possessed the sort of terrible freedom that stems from having no one that will be devastated if anything goes wrong.

She consulted as a private contractor, so she had no boss or coworkers. Her parents had died months apart, five years ago—or had it been six now? She had been very close to them, and had taken their deaths hard. Marian had always spent time abroad, but she had always had a home to return to after her travels—something wholesome and permanent.

She felt a bit lost without that stability, and compensated for the vanished warmth in her life by growing even more emotionally detached and independent. Suffering and loss affect each person differently, and they hardened Marian. She still had family—a sister and two brothers, all Muggle, but they had grown up, married and moved on, settling elsewhere and having children. As the oldest and only one possessed of academic leanings and the capacity for magic, she had always been a bit segregated from the others. Even though she had scrupulously avoided casting spells around them in an effort not to hurt their feelings, the divide had widened naturally and significantly after their mother died. She had been a Muggle mystery and non-fiction writer, and Marian's best friend and advisor. The two had frequently traveled together, until the short and bitter illness that had claimed her life. Since then, the young American had prowled about the globe, working on more challenging projects, and keeping her doings to herself.

She had assisted wizarding hospitals, universities, private collectors—anyone that could offer a particularly interesting or profitable case. And years had passed in this manner, filled with work, intellectual pursuits, transitory acquaintances, and an occasional holiday celebrated with her siblings and their spouses and children. The only constants were her familiar, a small cream-and-white Pomeranian dubbed 'Honey Bear', and the house she had bought three years ago in the mountains of Tennessee, although she spent very little time there.

While at home, she was something of a recluse. She had friends scattered all over the world, but tended to be a rather poor correspondent. Although her friends mattered to her, she didn't feel a soul-deep attachment to any of them. Marian had grown up reading about friendships like that of Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson, David and Jonathan, C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien, and had longed to find the same sort of perfect companionship and understanding with another person.

But as the years passed and she grew more and more aloof, she began to lose sight of her ideal. She forgot how wonderful it was to be loved, to have someone to protect and cherish. The men she met left her feeling cold and disinterested. She supposed that she was difficult to please, but certainly had no intention of settling at this point in her life. Marian had no desire to be on intimate terms with anyone with whom she lacked respect or a connection.

Although she was a bit of a risk-taker, her most recent assignment had stretched even her boundaries. She usually didn't do work for foreign governments, but even a level-headed witch could be swayed by the romance and high adventure associated with dragon-guarded treasure. When word had reached her in Argentina that the Romanian government was hiring curse-breakers from all over the world, she had decided that she had nothing to lose, and had packed that very night.

With a delicate combination of luck and skill, she had prevailed, and her gamble had paid big dividends, enabling her to do whatever work she wanted from then on, and never have to tackle anything dangerous ever again, if she so chose. The Romanian Ministry of Magic had compensated her well for her risks, deciding to be generous because of the staggering worth of the cache. They even allowed her to retain some artifacts as mementos.

Her financial situation had definitely contributed to her decision to head to England. Without needing to work for quite a while—possibly ever-she could do whatever she liked. When she had first arrived in Romania, she had instantly become friends with a younger man named Charlie Weasley, who had been the original locator of the treasure trove. He had told her all about his family back in England, and often shared the news contained in their letters with her, which was how she heard the first pronouncement of Lord Voldemort's return during the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Later, erstwhile Death Eater Igor Karkaroff made headlines in European wizarding papers when he fled his position as headmaster at Durmstrang, one of the most celebrated educational institutions in the world. And once Marian started paying attention to the news, she couldn't help but notice the many suspicious disappearances, coinciding with the whispered rise of the notorious dark wizard. The witch had been a child in America during Voldemort's last rise to power, but even she had come to dread his name. His arm was long, capable of stretching across the Atlantic.

At first, Marian had supposed that the British Ministry of Magic would step in and stop him before he managed to recruit followers. When she saw that Albus Dumbledore, the revered defeater of the dark wizard, Grindelwald, and the only man feared by Voldemort, had announced the dangerous sorcerer's return, she felt that the British probably had things well in hand, especially since they had Harry Potter, who had inexplicably defeated him last time. But when the witch began reading crazy and attention-seeking portrayals of Dumbledore and Potter in the press, she understood that the Ministry was not taking their warnings seriously, and began to dread that they might soon have another world war on their hands.

She was the daughter of a Muggle and a half-blood, but could only trace her ancestry a couple of generations. Few Americans could do more. Preoccupation with lineage was uncommon in the American wizarding community, and she knew that to Voldemort and his ilk, if you couldn't prove your pedigree, it was because you had a contaminated bloodline, and therefore didn't deserve a place in the wizarding world. So one day, when Charlie approached her with a determined look on his face and asked about her plans after she wrapped up the Romanian contract, she was almost completely unsurprised at the ease with which he recruited her for Dumbledore's resistance group, called the Order of the Phoenix, that had been instrumental in the dark wizard's downfall the last time.

And so she found herself in her new, picturesque house in the British countryside. Why, she thought, should she suffer the inconvenience of a flat when she had the money for a house (Even if this house _was_ only a front and she actually commuted to the United States each day through the illicit international Floo connection she had set up.)? Marian had a healthy disrespect for international regulations on transportation, and had gotten terribly good at setting up Floo connections that weren't supposed to exist, and couldn't be regulated.

She was currently very interested in Portkeys. They were delightfully tricky devices, and most wizards, even the less than law-abiding ones, paid high prices for the regulated Portkeys crafted by Ministry transportation experts. Everyone knew that far more than a mumbled, "Portus" was required to create a magical object with specifications, which was why many people often shared a Portkey. Marian already had quite a talent for setting them up in a hurry, no matter the distance, but she was fascinated by the trigger—the concept that a Portkey could be carried long-term, possibly reused, and activated by a certain catalyst she would invent, a special word, or perhaps something even more subtle. But she had agreed to do a little consulting for St. Mungo's, the wizarding hospital, as a cover for being in the country, and she thought that between her work there and whatever Dumbledore wanted her to do for the Order, she would have little time for side projects like these, unless she found a very good reason for reopening them.

Marian was just beginning to wonder what to have for dinner, when a magnificent speckled owl began tapping officiously on the living room window. She rushed over and snatched the missive, hoping it was the letter she had been waiting for. The owl gave a reproachful hoot and flew away without waiting for a response. In excitement, she realized that it was the announcement that would determine her future in England.

My dear Ms. Oliver,

I would be delighted if you would join me for dinner tonight at six o'clock in Hogsmeade, at a pub called the Hog's Head. The Floo will be open.

Yours most sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore

She only had thirty minutes before she met one of the most powerful wizards living, the famous Albus Dumbledore, the man she had idolized as a child for defeating Grindelwald, and for his many brilliant spells and potions. He was the Merlin of his age. Marian wanted very much to make a good impression, but, reflecting that she was meeting him in a public place in order to join his subversive underground organization, she decided against changing out of her weather-stained traveling robes. So, at precisely five to six, Marian stepped through the Floo.

When she stumbled out of the hearth, she had to blink, letting her eyes adjust to the dingy, smoky atmosphere. The American barely had time to glance once around the unsavory-looking pub before she was ushered almost immediately to a private room upstairs by an ancient barkeep, whose bright blue eyes gleamed eerily at her from under his hood. Professor Dumbledore had been waiting for her, and he looked resplendent in his sapphire-colored robes that fell in perfect pleats without a single grain of ash. She puzzled over how he had accomplished such a pristine Floo journey, and wondered irrelevantly if he had traveled another way. His splendor left her feeling a bit embarrassed of her once-brown (or perhaps once-green) cloak, and she quickly whipped it off and stowed it out of the way, revealing the outdoor clothing she had been wearing when she left Romania, a khaki Muggle skirt and forest green hiking shirt—perfect for a summer in the Carpathian mountains, but less than adequate for the old-fashioned British wizarding community. Dumbledore seemed to know exactly what she was thinking, twinkling with amusement as he gestured her over to the table and poured the ubiquitous British tea.

"My dear, I am very delighted to meet you. Unfortunately, the cuisine is rather limited at this establishment. I have taken the liberty of ordering us both the Shepherd's Pie, which, between you and me, is the only thing on the menu that has not been found to induce a peculiar reaction in the diners. The fish and chips once turned my toenails blue for an entire week," the wizard spoke in cordial, cultured tones with a hint of that patient authority that few possess, but, when encountered, must be obeyed.

"Professor Dumbledore, it's a great honor to meet you, sir. I never expected you to come and greet me yourself," Marian said, sliding gracefully into her seat.

"I will always have time to spare for beautiful and charming young ladies. Charlie Weasley spoke very highly of you, Ms. Oliver, and I have been greatly looking forward to making your acquaintance," Dumbledore said, as he pulled a small crystal vial out of his pocket.

"Please, call me Marian….Wait, is that Veritaserum?" she broke off.

"Yes, it is. You don't mind, do you? I thought that it would be better to get all of the suspicion out of the way on the front end so we could enjoy our dinner, if that's all right," he smiled, expertly maneuvering her doctored tea across the table towards her. Marian realized that underneath this genial exterior was a man with a will of iron, and suddenly had no doubt at all as to who was in charge of this meeting.

"No," she said slowly, a bit wrong-footed, "I think I would have doubts about your leadership if you didn't do something like this to make sure of me….No offense."

"None taken," Dumbledore said, smiling serenely as she drank the whole cup and set it down, barely suppressing a grimace.

"Please state your full name, age and nationality," he demanded, after she had had a few moments to absorb the potion.

"My name is Marian Elaine Oliver. I am twenty-eight years old and from the United States," she answered, with the typical sluggishness induced by truth serum.

"What are your abilities?" he asked, his keen blue eyes focused on her face as he stirred his tea absent-mindedly.

"I am a Charms Mistress and inventor of spells, particularly non-verbal. I have been working as a curse-breaker for the past five years. I am an unregistered hawk Animagus and fairly accomplished at Transfiguration. Also, I am very good at creating unofficial Portkeys and Floo connections, international or otherwise," she intoned.

"You seem to be fairly comfortable living outside the law. Why is that? And why are you in Britain? What are your objectives?" he asked, watching her intently, although she sensed that he wasn't actually displeased at anything she'd said.

"I suppose that I travel through so many countries with so many different legal standards that I have started not even bothering to check what they are. Registering as an Animagus is optional in America, and I suppose that I follow the American standards out of habit and convenience. As far as the unauthorized transportation goes, I believed that those skills would be highly useful one day, and so I cultivated them. I consider that it is sometimes necessary to live outside the law if the government is not doing what is in the best interests of the people, as is the case in Britain now. The Ministry of Magic is not containing the dark wizard Voldemort or protecting its citizens from the threat he presents, which is why I am here. I want to join the Order of the Phoenix and to help defeat him. I have enough money to spend my time following your orders rather than working, although I have signed on to do a bit of consulting for St. Mungo's on curse cases—as an excuse for being in the country," she finished.

Dumbledore asked only one more question, "Have you ever been affiliated with Voldemort or any pureblood-supremacist group?"

"No," Marian murmured.

After that, Dumbledore instructed her to take a Wand Oath. She swore not to reveal any of the secrets of the Order of the Phoenix and to follow his orders and do whatever she could to ensure Voldemort's defeat. Then he poured her another cup of tea, and tipped a bit of the antidote into it, stirring it artfully before handing it over.

She drank it, and suddenly seemed much more animated than before. As if on cue—which it probably was, now that she thought about it—the old barman entered the room with two plates of very sloppy-looking Shepherd's Pie. She was surprised to find it delicious. During dinner, Dumbledore explained some of the challenges the Order would be facing from the Death Eaters and the Ministry. Marian had not realized just how much Dumbledore's power and prestige had been shaken by the Ministry cover-up, but now found out that the Minister's Undersecretary, a bureaucrat without a scholarly bone in her body, would be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts in the fall.

"Well, my dear Marian, it's been a pleasure. If only we had met a few weeks earlier, you could have filled the DA position and the Ministry would not have been able to use this loophole to gain access to the school. But I suppose that everything happens for a reason….Please memorize the name on this piece of paper. It is the secret-kept location of our headquarters. Do you have it?"

"I have it," she murmured, secretly delighted that her first assignment for the Order wouldn't involve teaching a bunch of spoiled teenagers about the dark arts. With a flick of his fingers, the note vanished in purple sparks, and Dumbledore smiled at her on his way to the door and said, "I look forward to seeing you there tomorrow evening at five for your first meeting."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: The Spy

That night as she stepped out of her Floo and greeted her small, fox-like puppy, she felt a twinge of guilt that she had not been completely honest with Professor Dumbledore. She had not told him about the spell she had created several years ago, a spell she had been sure of theoretically, but had not been able to test formally until tonight, when she had felt the tell-tale heaviness of her tongue after ingesting the Veritaserum. But, because of her spell, she had felt no corresponding dullness of the mind, nor any compulsion to tell the truth. It had been quite clever really. She had even discovered a certain configuration of runes that, when added to any spell, made that spell permanent, and not subject to degrade over time, as was the case with most charms. Marian had kept her anti-truth spell a secret and never shared it with anyone, afraid that if it ever leaked out, that people would resort to even more invasive techniques to get the information they wanted—techniques like Legilimency (which had almost died out) and…torture.

Marian had not made this discovery by accident. It was one of the deepest quirks-or flaws perhaps-of her character that she despised anything invasive or manipulative. She had an almost obsessive love for freedom and privacy, and hated more than anything else the thought of violation or compulsion-of the mind, the body or the will. She did not want to be dependent on anything but herself and God. She disliked the idea of relying on others for her security, and did all she could to lessen her dependence on everything, from the government to a wand.

As a child, she had been capable of impressive feats of wandless magic, and it had bothered her when her dad told her she needed to rely on her wand to be a good spell-caster, because Marian knew that_ she_ possessed the magic: the wand was only a tool. Marian grasped that some men could kill with their bare hands as easily as with a knife, that it just took considerably more skill and training—but one never knew when one would be without a knife. So Marian ruthlessly applied the same principle. Even as a child, she stubbornly practiced wandless magic for hours at a time, focusing on this one object with all of her considerable intensity. And it had paid off spectacularly. Not that she ever told anyone. Marian still carried a wand, but it was mostly for show and she only used it in company. It had taken years of practice and concentration, but she could now do the most complicated spells wandlessly, and often invented charms or adapted known spells to be used without a wand.

Once she mastered this art—she had never read about anyone that had taken it as far as she had—she challenged herself even more by learning to do everything nonverbally. Now she could rest securely in the knowledge that, unless she was unconscious, she would never be unable to defend herself. She would be just as formidable disarmed, and held in the Full-Body Bind, as any other wizard would be with full possession of his faculties and wand pointed at his opponent.

But this had become sort of a trend for Marian. She hated the idea of being forced—violated. She had taught herself Occlumency because she couldn't stand to think of the vulnerability of her mind. She created unauthorized transportation for herself because she refused to have her movements monitored and controlled by others. Marian knew she was a bit wary, but didn't apologize for it. Everyone has a secret preoccupation, after all. At least hers was sensible, and not something like trying to find the perfect piece of chocolate cake or building the world's tallest house of cards. At least, that's what she told herself. And even though she was going to be working for Professor Dumbledore now, she still felt entitled to her own secrets and a certain amount of autonomy. In the end, she trusted her own judgment and wanted the spell to remain hers to bestow, not his.

Also, she realized that if Dumbledore knew about her invulnerability to every known truth serum and truth spell (they all shared a common factor, and so could have a common inoculation), then he would never really trust her, even though she had not, in fact, lied to him. She had given him some incriminating information about herself, like the fact that she was an Animagus—although she rarely transformed-but had by no means told him everything.

The clouds rumbled as Marian Apparated outside Number 12, Grimmauld Place. At first, she thought she must have gotten the address wrong, but when she spoke it aloud and the house appeared, squeezing its way in between its two neighbors, she was filled with admiration for the cunning of the owners. She knocked carefully and the door was abruptly tugged away from her fingers by a tired, gentle-looking man with prematurely graying hair. He looked to be a few years older than her, and there was something appealing about his face. Although not conventionally handsome, he was tall and slim, possessing wise, patient eyes. Marian took his measure instantly, deciding that he was probably clever and good-natured, but lacking the force of character so essential for her in a partner.

"Welcome! You must be Ms. Oliver. Remus Lupin," he said, ushering her inside with a wan smile.

She smiled at him in return.

"You're early. We should get started in about a half hour or so. In the meantime, let me escort you to the kitchen to meet Molly and get a cup of tea."

Marian inwardly cringed at the mention of tea, inescapable in Europe and the Orient, but dutifully followed him through a gloomy, decaying entrance hall to meet this Molly person. But before they reached their destination, they were waylaid by a singularly handsome man. Marian heard him before she saw him, as his mocking, confident voice rippled through the moldering hallway, "And who have you got with you there, Moony?"

She quirked an eyebrow at Lupin, awaiting an introduction or an explanation, either one would have done, and he gave her a long-suffering smile and opened his mouth, when the other man elbowed him playfully in the side and interrupted with, "I am the master of this decaying monstrosity. Sirius Black, at your service. But please call me Sirius. And you are?" he roguishly waggled his eyebrows and Marian found she was amused in spite of herself.

She knew all about this kind of man, had met his type hundreds of times in a thousand different places. She had never been taken in by his ilk, put off a bit by their boldness, because she believed flirtatious men to be the type least likely to possess that elusive kind of loyalty one reads about but never seems to meet in prospective partners. Even though she had subconsciously written him off the moment he'd opened his mouth, she was by no means unaware of his charm. Marian had no trouble seeing how many, many women had found themselves enmeshed in his net of playfulness and excitement.

So she gave him a kind, but somewhat distant smile and said, "Then you must call me Marian, of course."

"Ah, an American! It's been a long time since we've had someone so…exotic around here," he declared, swiftly looking her up and down with liquid, golden-brown eyes.

She almost snorted with laughter, "I've heard Americans called all kinds of things, but certainly never _that_."

"But that is only because _you_ weren't the American in question, my dear," he murmured in response.

Before she could frame a reply to his outrageous flirtation, she suddenly found herself flanked by identical mischievous faces topped with very red hair. "Looks like Sirius started working his magic early, George," one said to the other with a smirk.

"Why, I do believe you're right, Fred. But let's just hope that she's too smart for his time spent lurking around the door on the off-chance she was gorgeous to pay off," the one called George replied, glancing sideways at Sirius and obviously hoping that he would take up their bait. But apparently Sirius had decided to pretend to be dignified today.

"Boys…." Sirius insinuated, rolling his eyes at Marian.

"I resent that, Padfoot. George and I are all man. Allow us to introduce ourselves, I am Gred, and the handsome bloke to your right is Forge." Both bowed with exaggerated courtesy.

"Marian," she grinned.

"Well, my lady Marian, now that we all know each other, we demand the chance to escort you to wherever you were going," George said gallantly, as they each possessed themselves of an arm.

The three were preparing to stroll off together; Marian was too bemused to protest, when Sirius got in his parting-shot, "As it happens, she was just on her way to the kitchen to meet your mother."

"No need to subject you to that yet, love. There are more than enough Weasleys for you to handle right here," one of them said.

Marian rolled her eyes, and they both snickered.

"Besides," George stage-whispered, "We're really the best people to give you the lay of the land around here. We have the low-down on everybody. We'll show you the curious-."

"—scandalous."

"—and most interesting aspects of the Order of the Phoenix."

"You guys do realize that I'm not a certified member yet, right?" she smiled.

"Oh please, Dumbledore's opinion is the one that matters, and you wouldn't be here if he hadn't already approved you. Now come on!" he dropped his voice, "You know you want to."

This seemed as good an idea as any, and she figured that these clever teenagers would prove very good friends to have down the line, so she grinned and said, "I'll take you up on that generous offer."

"Let's go in the next room and grab seats against the wall so we can begin your education," finished Fred.

For the next twenty minutes, people continued to file through the living room on their way into the dining room where the meeting was to be held, and the twins kept up their hilarious and often irrelevant commentary on each one.

She learned that the pink-haired, cheerful woman was named Tonks, and that she was a Metamorphmagus, an Auror, and that they strongly suspected she had a thing for Lupin—who apparently was a werewolf and their former Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. They told her about Sirius Black and the Marauders, and about how he was in hiding after his unprecedented escape from Azkaban, having been framed by Peter Pettigrew for the betrayal of the Potters and the murder of several Muggles. Marian felt a little more sympathy for Black after this revelation. She had noticed his haggard, used-up look, and experienced a twinge of guilt for assuming that, given his wild and flirtatious personality, it had the same cause as that sported by hard-living rock stars.

They pointed out several others, including a couple of their own family members. She was given to understand that their brother Percy was a Ministry worker and 'prat'—and then they treated her to the definition, as the word wasn't used in America.

She learned all about Emmeline Vance, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and an unsavory-looking man named Mundungus Fletcher, "who really does smell like dung," George assured her.

"And firewhiskey. It's a potent combination," Fred piped in.

Marian's attention was suddenly drawn to a dark alcove near the exit, where a pale, dark-haired man had materialized without her noticing. He stood perfectly still, with his arms crossed in front of him and a sneer on his lips. Even though he appeared to be waiting patiently for the meeting to begin, there was something terribly impatient in his patience. His eyes were black, and cold at first appearance, although the very intensity of the cold bespoke a passionate nature brutally controlled.

"I can imagine," she murmured absently to Fred, as she watched the dark man, stony and reserved in his isolation. Lupin approached him and said something to him quietly, and the man gave a sharp jerk of his head and said something softly that made Lupin recoil and beat a hasty retreat. Something about the wizard's mannerisms caused Marian to wonder briefly if this might be one man whose will was as inexorable as her own…or perhaps even stronger. The thought was a novel one to her, and a bit unsettling. But she couldn't deny that there was something…formidable about him. She started as a pleasant-faced, redheaded woman stopped short in front of her, blocking her view. The woman immediately began giving the boys a severe talking-to, although Marian could sense her affection for them.

"Boys, you know you're not supposed to be in here! The meeting is about to start. Get upstairs immediately! And if I catch any of those Expansive Ear thingies, you will both be doing so much cleaning that even a house elf would beg for mercy!" she exclaimed, swatting at them both until their ears were as red as their hair.

"Mom! We're of age!" Fred whined.

"We'll talk about this later, George. Now get upstairs!" their mother scolded.

Both boys shot Marian a sheepish glance and asked, "We'll see you at dinner, right?"

"—Of course you will. Now get!" the woman interrupted, and then turned her back to them, unmoved by the pitiful way they slunk up the stairs and the mock-tragic faces they were making, although Marian watched them, and grew highly amused by their antics. Their mother seemed to notice, and she gave Marian a fond smile.

"I can't believe that those boys spirited you off the moment you got here! I have been waiting to meet you all day, and never would have known you'd arrived if dear Sirius hadn't spilled the beans. I'm Molly Weasley, and I hear that you're friends with my son Charlie," she said eagerly.

"Yes, that's right. Marian Oliver," she said politely, holding out her hand, "Those twins of yours are something else," she added with a grin.

"Merlin, I know! I love them, but they wear me out. The two of them get up to more mischief than the other five combined. Now, tell me all about yourself and how my precious boy is doing. Now, are you and he…?" she trailed off, allowing Marian to fill in the blank.

"Oh no, Mrs. Weasley! I am several years older than Charlie. It was never anything like that. But," she added slyly, "Has he written to you about Katarina?"

"It's Molly, my dear. And never mind about Charlie—I have an older son as well. Come with me into the kitchen. I must hear all about this Katarina. Are the two of them serious?" she asked, bursting with curiosity as she hustled Marian over to the counter where she began mechanically helping Molly set out the tea things. Marian felt a bit guilty for outing Charlie's six-month relationship with Katarina, a Russian curse-breaker, because Molly seemed like she was one step away from hiring a wedding planner. But the news had made the other woman happy, and had kept her so busy finding out the details of Charlie's love life, that she had neglected to follow up about Marian's—although she was certain that there would be no long-term escape and that she would be forced to bare her soul another day.

Marian smilingly handed out cups of tea to whoever wandered into the kitchen, all the while fielding Molly's questions, and chatting with many of the Order members. A few seemed wary of her, but most just smiled politely and made a bit of small-talk. She soon noticed Dumbledore's arrival. He stood in the doorway and gave her a gracious smile, eyes twinkling through his delightful half-moon glasses, while he stood in conversation with Lupin and Mr. Weasley, whom Marian liked very much. She realized that now that Dumbledore was here, the meeting would be starting soon.

All through the bustle and activity in the kitchen, a part of her mind was still dwelling on the dark man from the other room. Suddenly, Sirius began ushering people into the dining hall. They all took their places in dark, straight-backed chairs placed around a long, ornately-carved, mahogany table. Dumbledore sat at the head, and the irritable-looking man from the other room sat at his right, while Marian found herself pulled down between Lupin and Black at the farther end.

"Attention, everyone," Dumbledore stood and raised his voice slightly, in order to be heard at the head of the enormous table.

"If the room is secure from Extendable Ears, we can begin," he added with a gleam of amusement.

Sirius nodded and gave a thumbs up to Dumbledore, who said, "Excellent. Let me begin our meeting by introducing a new member. This is Marian Oliver, a Charms Mistress from the United States. She works as a contracted curse-breaker and inventor of spells, and may potentially be quite useful to us. She has taken on some light consulting work at St. Mungo's as a cover for being in our country. I have questioned her under the use of Veritaserum and made her swear a Wand Oath of loyalty to the Order. I have found her acceptable, but if anyone has any concerns, please speak up now; otherwise, we will consider the motion passed, and Marian to be a full member of the Order of the Phoenix, with all of its attendant responsibilities," Dumbledore finished authoritatively.

"Albus, if you say she's alright, then she's alright. We're happy to have you with us, Missy," said a grizzled Auror with a bizarre, spinning, blue false eye, and a few others murmured welcomes.

When everyone stared at her in expectation, she rose and answered, "Thank you. It's an honor," and then sank back into her seat to watch the rest of the meeting unfold.

Dumbledore smiled at her benignly and then continued, "She was recruited by Charlie Weasley and is the first member of a foreign wizarding community to join our cause. We should all be encouraged by the fact that wizards from other countries are beginning to take notice of our situation here, even though our own government persists in ignoring it. As you all know, Voldemort has always made a point of recruiting from other nations, especially from Eastern Europe. It is time that we too reach outside our own lands. On that note, I am still waiting to receive word from Hagrid concerning his embassy to the giants. He should return sometime in the next few weeks, and hopefully his news will be favorable. Does anyone else have anything to say before Severus gives his report? Remus?" he asked politely.

She watched as the eyes of the dark man at Dumbledore's side flicked over to Lupin, and a contemptuous smile touched his lips. Sirius must have noticed his expression as well, because she saw him stiffen out of the corner of her eye. As she glanced back down the table, Marian suddenly found herself captured by the man's cold, fathomless eyes. He seemed to be assessing her, and she had the unpleasant feeling that she had been weighed in the balance and found wanting. Marian was too strong-willed to look away and blush, although that was what every fiber in her being longed to do. Instead, she respectfully inclined her head in his direction, giving him a subtle acknowledgment. He didn't return the gesture, but he watched her impassively for a moment longer, without so much as a twitch to hint at his thoughts, before he turned away dismissively and focused his attention back on Lupin.

Lupin cleared his throat and stood awkwardly, "My attempts to reach out to the werewolves have been disappointing so far. Until the Ministry is prepared to enact reforms that will improve werewolf conditions, I'm afraid that their bitterness and frustration with the status quo will lead more and more into You-Know-Who's camp. Of course, I'm continuing to work with them and have made a few tentative friendships. Hopefully these will pay off in the days to come."

"Very well, Remus. I did not expect instant results, but I think it's important that we keep trying. It is an improvement to our situation whenever we can stimulate a neutral person to act, but a brilliant success if we can turn one of Voldemort's allies into his enemy," Dumbledore replied, and then looked at the man to his right-the cold, fascinating man.

"Severus?" he prompted.

The man stood gracefully, his black robes framing elegant hands and a very pale face, with a prominent Roman nose. He was all black-and-white, with dark curtains of hair framing his strong features. He possessed fathomless black eyes of unusual intensity, and sallow skin, with a very expressive mouth, although his lips were thin and colorless. He seemed tall and lithe, but it was difficult to tell with his severe robes, the collar rising so high that it concealed the greater part of his throat.

Marian marveled when he began to speak. His voice was low and silky, like a river of melted silver. "The Dark Lord is not merely interested in acquiring new followers, although he is certainly doing that, and particularly Ministry officials. Since our last meeting he has corrupted Elvira Roach and Caius Sotherby."

There were murmurs at these words, but his cultured voice continued without stopping, "It is certainly likely that there have been more. I have yet to fully regain his trust, although he has stopped making his…displeasure quite so evident." He rubbed his left forearm absently as he spoke, before he caught himself doing it and placed his hands at his sides. Marian had the unpleasant feeling that this was a euphemism for torture.

"But as I was saying, recruitment is not his highest priority at present. He is obsessed with acquiring an object that is being housed in the Department of Mysteries. It is something he didn't have in the last war, a weapon of some kind. He is being quite secretive about it, confiding in none of his Death Eaters. Instead, I have heard that he plans to do his reconnaissance by using the Imperius Curse on Ministry officials."

These words brought forth a flurry of excitement from his audience, and he was suddenly faced with interruptions from all sides, although Marian noticed that Dumbledore was silent. Obviously, he had already heard this news. It was only a hunch, but she was almost certain that Snape made his reports to him first and then only reported to the group what Dumbledore instructed him to reveal.

"What is the nature of this…object?" asked the older man with the spinning eye.

Obviously not the sort of man that liked to repeat himself, Snape's tone practically dripped with distain as he answered, "I have already told you all I've heard. It is a tool of some kind that the Dark Lord believes will be of great advantage to him in the war."

Leaning back in his chair, Sirius clapped slowly, impudently, and said, "Well, that's a nicely-crafted report, Snape. Just enough information to pique our interest and just vague enough to be completely unhelpful. Did You-Know-Who tell you what to say or did you come up with it all on your own? I would _love_ to hear what one of your accounts to _him_ sounds like," he added insolently.

"Why, I talk all about you, of course," Snape responded maliciously, "I tell him about all of the _critical_ work you've been doing for the Order while in hiding at your mother's house…all of the sandwich-making, the tidying up….I hear that it's been particularly tricky polishing the ears of all your mounted elf heads."

Sirius sprang up from his seat just as Dumbledore called the meeting to order. In spite of herself, Marian was amused. Severus Snape impressed her, and she knew for a certainty that she never wanted to fall a victim to his cruel, clever tongue. If he could shred Sirius, she cringed to think of what he could do to her.

After this minor showdown, the meeting was largely uneventful. No one seemed phased by the spat between Black and Snape, which made her think that this was probably a regular occurrence. Two other people spoke briefly, but didn't say anything interesting, and then Dumbledore addressed them all for a bit about how they as Order members were trapped between the lurking threat of Voldemort and his Death Eaters, and the Ministry reaction. Dumbledore told them that the Minister believed he wanted power and was using an imaginary threat, Harry Potter's account of Voldemort's return, as an excuse to build his own private army against the Ministry. As ludicrous as this sounded to all of them, it appeared that the Minister of Magic had gone so far as to assign someone from his office to serve as an informant in the school itself. He talked about this for a time, and then discussed the importance of remaining vigilant, before issuing a blanket invitation to stay for dinner, and then dismissing them.

Marian rose and began threading her way through the group in order to help Molly in the kitchen. Sirius and Remus remained sitting at the table, and didn't seem to notice she had left. Sirius talked and gestured wildly, while Remus nodded sympathetically from time to time. Marian supposed Sirius was still angry about his tête-à-tête with Snape. Speaking of him, she heard the front door opening and looked up just in time to see him stride out of the house, with his cloak billowing behind him. She felt oddly disappointed.

It seemed that besides Snape, everyone else stayed for dinner. The meal proved to be a jovial affair. Molly Weasley could cook a feast that would put most restaurants to shame. The twins had Apparated downstairs, practically twitching with delight to be out of their confinement, and Marian met their younger siblings, Ron and Ginny, as well as Ron's two friends, a curly-haired girl named Hermione Granger and the famous Harry Potter. She found the children to be delightful, full of humor and wonderfully mature. She reflected that, had she met more like them, she might not have such a low opinion of children in general.

On the way into the kitchen with a load of dirty dishes, Marian collided with the pink-haired Auror, Tonks, splashing mashed potatoes all over a bust of one of Sirius' ancestors. Immediately, a beautiful friendship was born. After they had laughed, introduced themselves, cleaned up the mess, and laughed some more, they joined the few people that had hadn't left immediately for after-dinner coffee and biscuits (they would always be 'cookies' to Marian).

"So," Marian said to Tonks, as they sat idly, watching the Weasley twins tinker with a neon green kids' toy, trying to imbue it with a function its makers clearly hadn't intended.

Marian continued after a lazy pause, "That was a pretty impressive stroke of Dumbledore's, getting an Order member to infiltrate the Death Eaters."

"What, you mean Snape?" she asked, incredulously, "Umm, actually, he's the real deal."

"What do you mean?" Marian asked.

"She means," Sirius said coldly, joining them at the table, "that dear old _Snivellus_ was a Death Eater long before he became Dumbledore's _pet_. Dumbledore seems to think he can trust him, but snakes aren't particularly _loyal_. They'll turn around and bite you at the first opportunity."

"Now be fair," admonished Lupin, "Severus may be unpleasant, but Dumbledore is no fool. If he says that he's turned over a new leaf, then I for one believe him."

Sirius rolled his eyes and said something about 'going to check on Buckbeak'…whatever he meant by that.

After he left, Marian turned to Tonks and said, "Please, tell me the story. I imagine it's an interesting one. It's not every day that I meet one of Vol-I mean..._You-Know-Who's_ original Death Eaters, after all."

"Well," Tonks began, "Snape was sorted into Slytherin back at Hogwarts and was always a bit of a misfit. He graduated after my first year, so I didn't know him back then, but Remus can tell you that he was a pale, greasy, anti-social kid on the fringes. He knew an awful lot about the Dark Arts and was very clever—brilliant, to be fair. But he had a falling-out with his one friend, a girl from Gryffindor—she became Harry Potter's mother actually-and then he got really involved with the Slytherin upperclassmen, and most of them became Death Eaters straight out of school. Most of You-Know-Who's inner circle came out of that class—the Lestranges, Rosier, Wilkes….the only notable exceptions were Snape, and Lucius Malfoy, who was a sixth-year prefect when Snape was a first-year."

Marian started at this, "Snape is in the inner circle?"

"Yes. In fact, right now he is one of the highest-ranking Death Eaters of all, but that may change if the Lestranges and the other incarcerated Death Eaters ever get out of prison. Snape may have appeased You-Know-Who for now, but that may change when there are a bunch of vengeful Death Eaters whispering in You-Know-Who's ear, complaining about him and sowing doubts. They're going to be pretty resentful that Snape was working safely at Hogwarts while they suffered in Azkaban with the Dementors. Yes, Snape is playing a very dangerous game.

"But anyway, I digress. Right after school, Snape became a Death Eater. He also earned his Potions Mastery. After he had been out of Hogwarts for about two years, Dumbledore claims that Snape approached him about wanting to get out. Of course, no one quits the Death Eaters, so Dumbledore convinced him to turn spy. He offered him a position at Hogwarts as Potions Master-although Snape would have much preferred the Dark Arts spot-and You-Know-Who told him to take Dumbledore up on it. So he worked at the school and passed information to Dumbledore, while relaying false information to You-Know-Who.

"Then You-Know-Who was defeated by baby Harry, and Snape went on trial because he possessed the Dark Mark. Dumbledore got him off and Snape remained at Hogwarts for the next—how many years has it been, Remus? Right, fifteen years. He and Remus were in the same class—you would never guess to look at him that Snape is only thirty-four. He's so sour; he seems more like sixty-four. But _anyway_, Snape stayed on with Dumbledore, and his Mark never went away—it only faded. As far as I know, he never considered leaving Hogwarts. He knew he owed Dumbledore his freedom, so instead of Azkaban he's had a job he doesn't like for the last fifteen years—oh, come on, Remus. It's _obvious_ that the man doesn't like teaching. He has no patience with people less intelligent than himself—and that is practically _everyone_—except Dumbledore, I suppose.

"Well, as I was saying. Last year, his Mark began growing more and more distinct, and he realized that You-Know-Who was returning. After the incident at the Triwizard Tournament—I assume Charlie told you all about that, right? Well, after he was fully regenerated, You-Know-Who called all his Death Eaters to him. Snape waited a couple of hours before he answered the summons, getting instructions from Dumbledore. When he finally Apparated he lied like crazy to You-Know-Who, but apparently his story was good enough that he spared his life. I guess Snape and Dumbledore had had enough warning to concoct something good. So You-Know-Who let Snape live, but I hear he was tortured terribly that night. He underwent several rounds of the Cruciatus Curse and was in horrible condition when he returned to Dumbledore. But he gave his report and then went down to the Dungeons—that's where he stays at the school-and wouldn't let anyone treat his injuries. He recovered several days later and went back to passing information. He gives a report every week or two—you heard one of them tonight. Well, that's really all I know about him."

"—except that he's a rotten git that nobody likes. You left that part out," added Sirius, who had just returned in a much better mood than he had been in when he'd left. He struck Marian as a little temperamental, but she supposed anyone would be if they were trapped in a house—especially a house like this—for months with no clear end in sight.

Tonks rolled her eyes and ignored him.

"That was some story," Marian breathed.

Tonks laughed, "I know—you meet a lot of crazy characters in wartime. Wait until I tell you about Mad-Eye Moody…."

They had all talked and laughed late into the night. After dinner, it had just been the Weasleys, Tonks, Lupin, Sirius, and herself. She had finally gone home about midnight after promising Molly that she would drop by 'the Burrow' sometime later in the week.

When Marian finally got back to her house, after one Apparition and one Floo journey, she took the puppy outside for a run around the yard before getting ready for bed, pondering everything she had heard that night. She removed the pins from her hair methodically to release her long, dark brown tresses. Marian was a bit traditional and loved to keep her hair long, but she hated that whenever she happened to glance down, she became preoccupied with noticing split ends. To keep her hair out of her way and off her mind, she compromised by keeping it up in elaborate styles—nothing terribly difficult or time-consuming, but not your typical ponytail or knot at the base of the neck. She made clever twists, chignons and buns, some requiring multiple braids. It had become a bit of a creative exercise to make up different styles, although she rarely spent more than ten or fifteen minutes on her hair. But her coifs were always elegant and flattering, while being a bit unusual and displaying her skill and attention to detail.

She stepped out of the lustrous black robes she had worn that night and began glancing through her nightwear. She had opted to wear wizarding robes instead of Muggle attire to the meeting as a concession to the more traditional British wizarding community. Even as she was soothed by her nightly ritual and the little puppy that nuzzled around her feet, she continued to play back the things she had discovered at the meeting tonight…especially things about the enigmatic Severus Snape. Even though she didn't know him, and he seemed almost superhumanly capable, worry gnawed at the back of her mind. She didn't like the position he was in, the constant danger. He was obviously terribly clever and uncommonly brave, and yet he seemed to have no support—even his relationship with Dumbledore appeared a bit dysfunctional. His obvious unhappiness bothered her as well. As she drifted off to sleep, she thought about the mistrusted spy, the brilliant man trapped in a profession that stifled him, the unhappy, neglected child. She wondered if there might be something she could do about it.

The next few months flew by. She attended Order meetings every couple of weeks, and Dumbledore had started giving her small research projects, although nothing particularly challenging or time-consuming. She wondered if he doubted her skills or if he didn't trust her, or maybe he was just pre-occupied with all of the trouble he was having at the school. Apparently the Ministry-appointed Defense teacher was a real piece of work, investigating all of the other teachers and questioning every decision Dumbledore made.

Countless Order meetings passed, but Marian had yet to speak with the man who so intrigued her. He generally arrived exactly as the meeting was called to order and left as soon as possible. She knew that one reason he did this was to avoid Black. There was something positively sinister about the way those two interacted. There was a palpable loathing between them, such concentrated viciousness. Snape was also a very busy man, both in the Order and at Hogwarts. Dumbledore seemed to rely on him for everything, and the other Hogwarts teachers that attended the meetings constantly said things like, "Oh, Severus will handle that" and "There's no reason to use our budget to purchase potions. Severus will continue to supply the Infirmary" and even "I always send my students to Severus to serve their detentions." Even though they never spoke, she still heard Snape's reports and he remained continually on her mind.

She very much wanted to meet him, and had explored several scenarios in her mind, but none of them seemed likely to gain her a friend. And so she decided to wait and see if an opportunity presented itself. Marian had a feeling that their paths would cross before much more time passed. She was right, but it didn't happen in any of the ways she had imagined.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: The Portrait

Whenever Marian came to Grimmauld Place, she would become incredibly annoyed by the rude screams coming from the portrait of Sirius' mother. The constant cries of "Blood traitor!" and "Mudblood filth!" grew wearisome rather quickly and Marian soon felt that something must be done.

Any disturbance would trigger the demonic thing, and Tonks was always setting it off by tripping on her way through the foyer. One day Marian happened to be standing near Sirius when it happened, and he completely lost his temper, yelling and jerking the curtain in front of the portrait closed and firing off a Silencing spell. He turned back to the ladies with a sheen of sweat on his brow and a harried expression on his face.

"I apologize for my…mother. She is almost as dreadful a portrait as she was a person," he huffed.

Marian had hesitated to bring up the issue before, because the portrait in question was his _mother's_, after all, but after this comment she figured it would be alright to ask him about its removal.

"Sirius, do you think that we might be able to move this painting to another area of the house? It _is_ rather…disruptive," Marian began.

Sirius gave out a bitter laugh, "The old bat knew what she was doing when she had this portrait made. It's attached to a load-bearing wall with a Permanent Sticking Charm. There's some serious dark magic imbued in its creation. Several Order members have tried removing it and/or destroying it, but with no luck. There are some nasty curses built into it too. And even Silencing spells don't last as long as they should on it, and the curtains keep coming open. I wish someone could get rid of the damn thing. I've tried myself, but the hag always manages to get my temper up and keep me from focusing. I wish I never had to set eyes on it again," he finished vehemently.

"Would you mind if I gave it a shot?" Marian asked, adding with a grin, "That _is_ my profession, after all."

Sirius brightened considerably. "By all means, go for it. You'd be doing everybody a favor."

Marian had always enjoyed a puzzle, and the amount of risk involved in curse-breaking served to make the eventual triumph even sweeter. So she showed up early to the next few Order meetings to probe at the enchantments that saturated the portrait. She usually only arrived around ten or fifteen minutes early, when a few other Order members were already milling about. Any earlier, and she would find herself entertaining Sirius instead of actually accomplishing anything. He seemed very lonely, and she sometimes felt a bit uncomfortable around him. She sensed that he had a bit of a crush on her, but after his twelve-year prison stint and nearly a year of house arrest with no women around, she was not inclined to take his feelings very seriously.

With around five to ten uninterrupted minutes to cast diagnostic spells on the portrait, her work was slow-going. She also was no expert at art, and had no idea what period the painting was modeled after, which might have given her a clue. Sirius' mother might have employed curses that were in vogue at the time. She came across bizarre trends like that in her work constantly.

One day, everyone had gathered for the meeting only to hear that Dumbledore was going to be late. While everybody else remained congregated in the kitchen and living area, she slipped back into the foyer and stood in front of the portrait. She had been thinking about what she hadn't tried, and had an idea. Instead of considering each symptom as an individual spell—the painting's resistance to silencing spells, destructive spells, its ability to keep in view no matter how many times the curtain was closed in front of it—it occurred to her that all of the side-effects came from one curse, and there was only one likely contender, an obscure French spell from the seventeenth century, usually used on wedding bands. It was slightly modified, of course, but nothing she couldn't quickly counteract. Then the portrait would be as vulnerable as any other to whatever spell they decided to send at it. A smile of triumph touched her lips and she laughed lightly to herself.

All at once, icy words broke over her like freezing rain, "So I see you've solved Black's_ insoluble_ puzzle….Although, if you expect to gain accolades to compare with your recent _triumph_, I suspect you'll be grievously disappointed."

Marian whirled around, and met the disdainful eyes of her enigma, Severus Snape, who lounged in the shadows against the wall. He sounded distinctly irritated with her. If the words had come from anyone else, she would have thought they were just sour grapes, that he had tried to disable the portrait's enchantments and failed, and was jealous of her accomplishment. But Marian suddenly remembered that he was the Order's Dark Arts expert. She couldn't think how she had forgotten it, as he had been on her mind so much lately. He was supposedly very good. In fact, only the Dark Lord was said to be better. In a flash of insight, Marian realized that he had probably known which curse it was immediately, but had kept the knowledge to himself in his petty war with Black. Now she had appeared on the scene and would not only take credit for breaking the curse that everyone assumed he hadn't been able to manage, but would also reverse an enchantment he very much wanted to preserve. Marian would be helping Black and making Snape look bad in one fell swoop. It was her first encounter with him, and he already disliked her for coming between him and his childish revenge.

Marian spoke quietly, "I see. I suppose that you figured it out ages ago, but left the curse in place because it annoys Sirius more than anyone else."

He nodded, looking surprised for a moment when she didn't answer the way he had expected, but then replied to her remark with malice, "I assume Black took lessons in cruelty from his mother. He escaped justice this past spring, but being trapped here with only her for company—at least that's something."

"Do you still think he's guilty then?" she asked in surprise.

He turned from her slightly and said in a quelling voice, "He is guilty of many things."

She was silent for a moment and then decided that now was not the time to delve deeper, so she changed the subject, asking lightly, "By the way, how did you know about my job in Romania? Happenings there hardly occupy the world's stage."

"Dumbledore," he answered distastefully, "He continually sings your praises."

"That's odd," she said with a hint of bitterness, "because he has yet to give me any work more challenging than finding information that's easily accessible in a public library. I suppose that it isn't that he feels I'm_ incompetent_, but that he doesn't trust me."

"You should be thankful that so little is asked of you," he said softly, and his eyes looked deep and dark and very cold. He continued after a moment, almost unwillingly, "Dumbledore doesn't feel that you need oversight."

He didn't say _'like the rest of us'_, but his thoughts were clear from his tone.

His silky-soft, resonant voice sacrificed none of its dark allure, despite his contemptuous tone and sarcastic inflections, "He believes that you do your best work when you invent your own projects, rather than receive assignments. He has the odd notion that you will find something he has overlooked, some _need_ within the Order, and that you'll be able to fill it better than anyone else."

Severus said this like it left a bitter taste in his mouth. Marian was surprised and asked, "So I basically have carte blanche? I can help in any way I choose, as much or as little as I want?"

"He expected you to take the initiative long ago. Apparently, you decided that the portrait of Black's mother was the thing most deserving of your attention," he said snidely.

"And why isn't Professor Dumbledore telling me this?" she asked defensively.

"Because he overestimates you, of course. He labors under the misapprehension that you know how to be resourceful….But by all means, don't let me keep you from your _important_ work. The sooner you lift the curse, the sooner you can go collect your laurels from Black….Or is it your goal to have an audience when you finally demonstrate your _skills_?" he added silkily.

Marian finally lost her temper, "Look Professor, I know this is really about you and Sirius, and that I've wandered into the middle of your feud—wait a minute, that's not quite true," she said thoughtfully, "You keep calling me an attention-seeker, and bringing up the fact that I work in a well-respected field as justification for my supposed _arrogance_. But the truth is that I dislike the limelight and have always worked behind the scenes. Glory isn't what I'm after-I'm a lot of things, but self-deluded isn't one of them. If anyone else had said something like you just did to me, I would set it down as jealousy."

Snape made a sound of outrage, and snarled, "You are nothing but an impudent little girl that fancies herself some sort of pseudo-soldier-of-fortune-"

But Marian cut him off neatly and continued on a roll as though she hadn't heard him, "Initially, I made the mistake of tossing out the possibility of jealousy with you, because I know for a fact that you don't envy me for my abilities—yours exceed my own. You are more powerful, more knowledgeable, and more accomplished than I. But I didn't consider that I might have something else that you want—"

"You have _nothing_ that I want," he interjected hotly.

She shot him a long-suffering glance and finished her statement, glossing over his interruption, "I imagine that I'm living a life very much like the one you would have chosen for yourself, had things been different. I have the freedom you long for—freedom for travel, research, anything."

The spy looked slightly taken aback by her comment, and Marian continued on, anxious to smooth things over with her words.

"It's obvious that you were born to great things—you outsmart the Dark Lord on a regular basis, and are only second to him and Dumbledore in power…and they both have quite a few years on you. In other circumstances, if you had the unlimited time and lack of responsibilities that I have, you would invent spells and potions that would change the world. I have no doubt that you would wield magic greater and more terrible than most of us have ever seen.

"You must feel stifled—living a life of self-denial, putting everybody else above your own hopes and happiness. But you'll retain your strength of mind and will, and when the war is over, you'll be able to do all the things you've always wanted. And you're a far better man than you would've been if you had always served yourself. It's very rare to find a man that is both great and good. But you are," she finished her passionate rant softly, almost tenderly.

Snape's expression had gone from outraged to shocked the longer she continued to speak. No one had _ever_ spoken to him like that, or held him in such esteem.

When he said nothing, Marian sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, "This is not going at all the way I had hoped. Professor, you've miscast me. I'm not the vain, glory-seeking interloper you think I am. The thing is…I've been looking forward to meeting you for so long. I admire you very much, and I don't want to be at odds with a man like you. Do you…do you think we might start over?"

For a moment, a dozen emotions chased each other across his face. But then he cleared his throat and murmured, "Very well."

Severus Snape had never been accustomed to compliments—the cloying flattery of students and Death Eaters disgusted him, and caused him to withdraw even more, but sincere compliments and admiration—his soul was starved for them. So when she held out a slim hand and said, "Marian Oliver," he accepted it before he had a chance to think better of his reaction.

The moment his pale, long-fingered hand clasped hers, she jumped, startled that it was warm and alive and exquisite. She had noticed the elegance of his hands even at the first Order meeting, but had never suspected he would feel so wonderful. When he murmured, "Severus Snape," in his silky voice, her hand involuntarily jerked with surprise at the surge of pleasure she felt at his touch. He felt the tug and his eyes immediately became shuttered and his lip curled as though he was about to say something nasty. She was sure he was, and decided to forestall him.

She placed her other hand over his fine-boned one, quick as lightening, and, for a moment, gently cradled it between, to show him how mistaken he was if he believed she felt disgusted by his touch. Marian could see the shock on Severus' face, and assumed it was there because he thought she was being forward. She had no way of knowing that his astonishment stemmed from her earlier words, and from the fact that no one touched him gently, ever. She had only clasped his hand for a fraction of a second before releasing it, but he was shaken to the core. To dispel the tension, she looked him in the eye and said teasingly, "Well, I suppose Walburgha Black will have to live to fight another day—and fight she will, since she can't seem to escape all of us _Muggle-loving dirt of a blood-traitor filth-s_," she ended lamely, blushing, and Snape was amused in spite of himself. Her inescapable American Southern accent made her terrible impersonation of Black's mother even better.

"I can hear my mother wearing off on you," Sirius laughed, approaching from the living room. His eyes grew hard when he saw Snape, who glared at him in turn. Where Sirius had been pure sunshine a moment before, he became like a block of granite, and said harshly, "Marian, we're getting started _if you can pull yourself away_," and spun on his heel.

She and Snape glanced at each other and then he ushered her ahead of him into the meeting.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Discoveries

Things were different between them after their encounter in the entrance hall. Marian had always been interested in Snape's doings, but he suddenly seemed aware of hers as well. During meetings, each unconsciously sought the eyes of the other for support when exasperated about something—which was often. They were far from friends, but were more than mere acquaintances. Severus rarely spoke to her, but when he did, he was respectful—at least comparatively.

One thing troubled Marian, and that was to see how cruelly Snape treated Lupin. Tonks had become a good friend, and had told Marian that she was in love with Lupin but that he refused to be with her because he didn't want her to suffer through his lycanthropy—his dangerous transformations and his difficulty finding and keeping work. Knowing about the sacrifices Lupin was forced to make because of his disease made it horrifying for her to hear Snape belittle him. Lupin was always mild-mannered, and took any reproach calmly and without retaliation. Whenever the time for Lupin's transformations grew near, Snape became even more impossible with him.

One afternoon, he espied Marian and Tonks sitting in conversation with a very weary-looking Lupin. Snape's dark eyes seemed to measure the distance between Marian and the werewolf, and his lip curled in disgust. He sneered cryptically, "As _careless_ as ever I see. Your dearest Nymphadora clearly has no regard for her own life, but perhaps you should warn the foreign witch against letting Black take her on any moonlit strolls."

He let this sink in for a moment, and Tonks seemed about to open her mouth, but Lupin squeezed her hand and she desisted. Snape turned and swept out of the room, but paused in the doorway for a parting shot, "I suppose we really should have known all along that Black didn't kill those Muggles. After all, an explosion hardly fits his _modus operandi_." And with that, he was gone.

"What on earth is he talking about?" Marian burst out, "Why does he treat you so abominably? I thought that it must be because of your friendship with Sirius, because you're too patient and kind to have offended him any other way, but it feels like there's more to it. What is the deal?"

Lupin sighed and hung his head. "He means me, Marian. Severus means that I am Sirius' favorite murder weapon."

"What?" she gasped. Tonks' eyes hardened and she placed her hand gently on Lupin's slumped shoulder. She was obviously already familiar with the tale.

He began speaking so quietly that Marian had to strain to hear. "When we were teenagers, Sirius, James Potter—that's Harry's dad, the traitor Pettigrew, and I were best friends. We were all in Gryffindor and Severus was in Slytherin. Sirius and James were the most popular kids in school—they were charismatic and clever—really gifted. They hated Snape from their very first meeting on the Hogwarts Express, and it was mutual. They treated him…rather badly. He gave as good as he got though, which was impressive, because he was always outnumbered. I never attacked him, but I never stood up for him either. I know Tonks has told you how Dumbledore let me use the Shrieking Shack to transform every month. Well, my friends became Animagi and kept me company during my transformations, and Severus was always curious about where we disappeared to all the time. So one day…Sirius lured him into the Shrieking Shack when I had transformed, but James found out what he had done and saved him at the last minute."

Marian's face had gone white, "Sirius did that? But that's attempted murder—not some schoolyard prank. What did Dumbledore do?"

Lupin hung his head in shame, "He forced Severus to keep silent to protect us—to protect me, and tried to convince Severus that he owed James a life-debt, but Severus has always believed that he only saved him to keep himself out of trouble."

Marian went home that night stunned. She doubted that she would ever feel the same about Sirius or Dumbledore. Sirius, who had tried to murder Snape, and had never felt a moment's guilt over it, which was apparent from his treatment of Severus now, as well as from the story Sirius had gleefully recounted after a meeting—much to the amusement of those about him-concerning the head injuries he had given Severus a year and a half ago when he had levitated his unconscious body, battering it against the tunnels of the Shrieking Shack. She felt that perhaps it hadn't been so wrong that Sirius had served time in Azkaban for something he hadn't done, because he had never had to pay for what he _actually_ had done.

And Dumbledore! Marian understood that Lupin had been innocent, and that Dumbledore's actions had protected him, but he had still treated Severus horribly, as if he were only a loose end to tie up: first, by valuing his life as worth so little, and secondly, by his blatant attempt at manipulation. He had saved four Gryffindors at the expense of one Slytherin. A fair exchange, she supposed, if she were looking at the situation from a calculating, purely utilitarian perspective, which of course, she wasn't. Marian had decided a few days ago to come clean to Professor Dumbledore about her charm that blocked truth spells and potions, so that he could offer it to Snape. But after this news, she felt angry and rebellious, and decided to bypass Dumbledore completely and approach Snape on her own. It was clear to her now that Professor Dumbledore, for all his wisdom and affability, primarily saw Severus Snape as a tool to use in the approaching war.

She paced her den in white-hot anger at the people that had hurt him, and wondered if Severus had ever had anyone put him first. With that stray thought, Marian suddenly found her calling. Dumbledore served as the leader of the resistance, and part of what made him a good strategist was his pragmatic willingness to make sacrifices—no chess player ever won a match without letting go of a few pieces. Marian could be just as cold and calculating, but for once she felt she didn't have to be. Since she had found out about the freedom of movement that Dumbledore had granted her, she had been puzzling over what she could do to make a worthwhile contribution. And now she had it—she would provide the support system for the Order's spy—to try to make him more secure so that he could keep giving the Order vital information, but mostly for himself, because he deserved to have someone taking care of him, and to value him for more than just his usefulness. She couldn't let him realize it, of course. Marian would have to be subtle enough that he never caught on that he was her special project—his pride would never allow it.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Girls' Night at the Burrow

Marian had indeed taken Mrs. Weasley up on her offer to visit her home, charmingly dubbed 'The Burrow'. She and the Weasley family always managed to have a wonderful time together, and now that Molly's children were back in school, Marian found herself invited over for meals at least once a week. One night Arthur had to work late, so she and Tonks received owls from Molly inviting them over for a girls' night. Tonks had been very depressed lately. Remus had been more distant with her than usual, and Tonks was terrified that his refusal to get involved with her might actually be his final answer. The other two tried to comfort her, saying that her persistence would eventually pay off, and that it wasn't that he lacked interest in her, but that there were extenuating circumstances and he was trying to be noble.

"You know, he's probably suffering as much as you are, if not more," Marian said thoughtfully.

"It will work out alright in the end," Molly said kindly, as she cut them all slices of her heavenly chocolate pie, "You'll see. It's like that for all the women in my family. We know quality when we see it, and we go after it. I knew Arthur was the one when I met him after the Sorting Ceremony in first year at Hogwarts. And my daughter Ginny….well, she's been in love with that little Harry since she first laid eyes on him. He'll appreciate her and reciprocate her feelings in the end, just you wait and see. Some people know what they want, and others can have it right in front of them for _years_ without noticing it until one day, they have an epiphany….Ginny and Harry will have such cute babies someday. Red hair runs in Harry's family—his mother was a beautiful redhead- their babies will all have gorgeous bright hair and green eyes."

Marian smiled to herself as Molly waxed eloquent about her possible future grandchildren. But Marian's interest had been piqued by something else she had said.

"Tell me, Molly. What were Harry's parents like? You must have known them in the Order….Tonks mentioned something about Harry's mother before, and said she was friends with Se—Snape," Marian tossed that ball into the circle, and the other woman immediately picked it up and ran with it.

"I didn't meet Lily until she and James Potter joined the Order. They were killed just two years out of Hogwarts—a shocking thing. They were both charming, charismatic, good-looking, talented…They had everything going for them. I'm afraid I don't know much about their early years though—Professor Snape's either. They were all several years younger and we didn't attend school at the same time. But I'll bet Remus has told Tonks some things…." Molly added coaxingly.

The combination of the wine, the delectable dessert, and the friendly conversation had wrought an extraordinary change in Tonks. She seemed almost back to her old self, and so she smiled, put down her drink and picked up where Molly had left off. "He _has_ talked about it before. Remus deeply misses his days as one of the Marauders—he's never had that kind of camaraderie since, and his fortunes have taken a decided downturn since he left school. But he told me that Lily Potter—well, she was _Evans_ back then-knew Snape before Hogwarts. They were neighbors or something and had become friends, but when they went to Hogwarts they were sorted into different Houses. Snape didn't really make any friends while he was there, but he tried to preserve his one friendship with her.

"Remus is pretty sure that Snape suffered from unrequited love for Lily through most of Hogwarts. That was part of the reason why he and James had such a horrible rivalry, because James had started noticing her in their later years of school. Snape never really had a chance once James started to like her. James was funny, popular, smart, handsome, athletic….Snape's crush must have made Lily uncomfortable, because one time she and Snape had a fight and she used it as an excuse to sever ties with him, refusing to forgive him no matter how many times he apologized….I doubt that that frigid piece of work has ever apologized to anyone since….She started dating James soon after that and they got married right out of school. Even though she died young, at least she had a couple of good years with the man she loved." Tonks began to get that downtrodden look again, and her hair started to fade slowly to brown.

"Oh I don't know," Marian said, jumping in to try to distract Tonks from her own misery, "I'm sure she made the right choice for _her_, but I think that someone with a little more vision would have chosen very differently."

"What! Pick Snape? Are you kidding me? Who in their right mind would choose Snape over someone like James—most people wouldn't even choose Snape over the Giant Squid at Hogwarts," Tonks squawked.

"He's not so bad….But what do you mean by somebody having 'vision' enough to choose Snape?" Molly asked hesitatingly.

Marian leaned forward on her elbows and got a faraway look in her eye, "I mean, the difference in the kind of person that would reject a slightly-above-average, move-in ready house with all the latest amenities in favor of a gutted, neglected stone mansion that needs tons of effort to be habitable and will always require constant upkeep. The mansion will demand sacrifices from the buyer. It will require much more time and love and energy than the other house, but that person reasons that it deserves these things—that, unlike the other house, which has always been kept in prime condition and will always be what it is now or worse, that the mansion has the potential for greatness if it's given the proper care. The buyer knows she will never stop finding the mansion interesting and unique, whether it's in discovering its many secret passages or in noticing a type of beautiful wood molding that just isn't used anymore….That's what I mean by someone with vision—someone that knows true value, that sees the house for what it could be, for what it could be with her. So she buys it and cherishes it."

"Surely Snape isn't the mansion in your story. Tell me I just heard you wrong," Tonks said with a laugh, although it was more forced than amused.

Marian just shrugged, "Who knows? Some men are like that—he might be one of them."

Tonks gave Marian an accusatory look and prepared to give her the third degree, "No, Marian. That's _not_ what you said—you told that story to illustrate the difference between James and Snape. Flashy, popular, talented James and oily-haired, bad-tempered Snape. I just don't understand how you can describe him in such a romantic light. I mean, he's a bitter, nasty, ugly git. Snape is a block of ice—what could you do with a man like that? Imagine having to crawl in _bed_ with him. It would be like sleeping with an Inferius."

"Now I don't know about that," Molly said thoughtfully. "There are men that are cold by nature and those that are cold from habit. You would be right, if Professor Snape was one of the first kind of men, but I think that his coldness is the acquired kind—that's what I got out of your story, anyway. He's just bitter from so many years of abandonment and disappointment. I think that he could thaw with encouragement from the right person. It would be a mistake to see his self-control as unconcern….Professor Snape certainly has his faults, but actually, now that I think about it, I really can't remember ever meeting a more passionate man."

"_What?_ Is this a conspiracy? Ladies, you're killing me today," Tonks laughed, nearly choking on her wine. "_Snape_, passionate?"

"Honestly, Tonks. He may be a spy and have preternatural self-control, but have you ever looked into that man's eyes? He hates with a passionate hate and I'm sure that he could love at least as passionately, if ever given the opportunity, which I'll admit is unlikely." Molly replied sadly. Then she turned to Marian and said, "But dear, with all your talk about houses and mansions, it sounds like you're a believer in the old lie that you can change a man—that you can improve him," she objected.

Marian had been listening curiously to Molly as she played devil's advocate with Tonks and replied immediately, "Oh no—that's not what I meant at all! Look, a lump of glass can't be changed into a diamond, but if one finds a diamond, one may facet and polish it."

"You're full of metaphors tonight, aren't you?" Tonks commented, in a jovial voice undergirded by mockery, a technique peculiar to the Blacks. Marian supposed it had been perfected by one of Tonks' long-lost progenitors and passed down through several generations, along with the tell-tale full lips and outstanding cheekbones-evolution at its finest.

Shaking her head, Marian reasoned, "Here's the thing, if you find a man with character and strength and convictions, he is essentially good already—he neither requires nor would accept any fundamental changes to who he is. A man that is already noble has the latent ability to love and trust. It's just that sometimes these abilities haven't been nourished in so long that they seem to have dried up altogether. But if someone lavished him with love and respect, he would change-he would be happy."

"Marian, I don't know what's gotten into you tonight. You sound like you've got a thing for the old grease ball. Next you'll be extolling the virtues of Mundungus. I can hear it now—'Honestly Tonks, all he needs is someone to provide him with regular baths and a few million galleons a week so he won't want to steal all the time.'" Tonks said this in a pretty spectacular southern accent and Marian started laughing.

Molly grinned at them and said with a twinkle, "Enough arguing about men—Marian, you just wait until you see my Bill! He's a palace that needs no renovation. He's going to be here over Christmas. You and Tonks will both have to come stay, of course. It is unthinkable for you to spend the holidays alone…."

And their evening ended on a light note, as the girls laughed and tried to escape Molly's relentless matchmaking schemes, which were mostly just in good fun—mostly.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6: The Rendezvous

One Saturday at the beginning of October, Marian found herself with a little free time and decided that she might as well spend it seeing a bit of Britain. After all, she planned to stay here for quite a while. She had a notion to visit Hogsmeade, as she had heard it was the loveliest wizarding village in the British Isles, overlooked by the remarkable castle that served as Hogwarts School.

Donning her cloak, as early autumn here was much chillier than what she was used to, she Apparated to the point disclosed to her by Tonks. She landed lightly, taking in the lovely cobbled street lined with shops. All had glass fronts, and many looked like gingerbread houses straight out of a fairytale. She took a deep breath of the pure mountain air, admiring the green hills that cascaded down to the valley, the grass dotted with small white and purple flowers.

But the castle overshadowed everything. Marian had seen many ruins in many lands—palaces, fortified cities, basilicas—beautiful things made by the hands of men, but never had she seen a place quite like Hogwarts. She gaped at it, ignoring her fellow pedestrians in her utter wonder. She pondered over what made this place so special. The design was traditional, but it seemed as if the very stones called out to her. This castle was full of magic—a far cry from most buildings of this period-decaying halls whose only echoes of life came from stone-splitting weeds and the rambles of the occasional pensive tourist.

Marian mused about what it would be like to live in such a place, amidst the rich tapestries that only slightly concealed the grandeur of the hard, inexorable stones that made up the vast halls and endless corridors. Her thoughts returned—as they often did—to the man she had met, the inscrutable potions master, and she felt a stabbing sense of rightness that he should live in such a place. He was as full of secrets, as impenetrable and exquisite as this medieval fortress. _Exquisite?_ Where had that thought come from? She shook her head to gather her scattered wits.

Despite her longing to get a closer view of the castle, she decided that Dumbledore probably wouldn't welcome tourists, especially one that was supposed to be working for him secretly. No, a visit wouldn't do at all. Marian sighed and examined the buildings around her. Most of the businesses in Hogsmeade appeared to be located along the main street, and so she began to stroll towards the crowds, noting that there seemed to be an inordinate amount of teenagers milling about. She noted that the crowd seemed especially thick in front of a cheery-looking establishment called Zonko's, and another place that apparently sold Quidditch supplies, although it was difficult to see the window display with so many eager young faces pressed against the glass.

Marian smiled indulgently, before she was distracted by the sound of a scuffle. Turning quickly about, she saw two rather burly-looking boys shoving a slimmer, gawky-looking child that wore a red-and-gold scarf draped about his neck in a lopsided manner. He was taller than the other two, but had a rather hapless air about him, and was clearly not their match. He clasped a bag of candy in one hand, which seemed to be the cause of the disturbance, and his other hand hovered over his wand, as though he hesitated to draw it and provoke the others in earnest. It was like watching two bulldogs worry a rabbit. The unfortunate child even looked a bit like one, with a large overbite and round, soft eyes filled with distress.

Seething with a cold fury, Marian took a step in their direction, seeing that the many children milling about seemed content to observe, without stepping in. She saw students with blue and bronze scarves and a few with green and silver, but none wore red and gold like the bullied boy. She suspected that these colors represented Hogwarts' Houses, and that these other stupid children refrained from interfering, because he wasn't 'one of their own'. This was the first Marian had seen of the divisive nature of the school's Houses, and it left an unpleasant taste in her mouth.

Before Marian could approach and intervene, she heard a deadly, unforgettable voice sneer softly, "_What_ is the meaning of this?"

She felt a thrill of fear and excitement, as she glanced up to see Severus Snape stalking towards the boys, who seemed to have frozen in place. Curiously, the harassed child looked even more frightened than he had before the professor appeared on the scene.

When no one made a move to reply to his menacing query, he singled out the boy in red and gold and said, "_Well,_ Longbottom?"

"P—P—Professor Snape. They were trying to take my candy, sir," the boy stuttered, his buck teeth showing to poor advantage as he struggled to form a coherent response.

Snape made no sign that he had noticed her, and his strong features twisted into a sneer as he took in the abject weakness of the victim, who practically quivered with fear under the merciless eyes of his potions teacher.

"Is this true, Crabbe? Goyle?" he snapped irritably, finally releasing the boy from his long, intimidating stare.

The two larger boys were apparently quite dull-witted, and seemed rather surprised that Snape had called them out. They blinked stupidly, and one of them clarified, "We wanted some _candy_."

Snape paused, waiting on the fat boy to finish his explanation, but no other words were forthcoming. The child seemed to think he had elucidated his position rather well, if the smug, vindicated gleam in his small eyes was anything to judge by. The professor rolled his eyes at the dolt, clearly one of his own Slytherins, and Marian pitied Snape in spite of his unsympathetic attitude. She felt that it was truly a crime that someone so brilliant should be relegated to settling petty squabbles between schoolboys.

"Buy your own candy from now on. Five points apiece from all three of you, and if you persist in making a spectacle of yourselves, you will receive a ban from Hogsmeade for the rest of term," Snape tapped a long finger against his thin lips and noticed Marian for the first time. She didn't even try to pretend that she wasn't watching avidly.

His eyes narrowed and, holding her gaze the entire time, added maliciously, "And Longbottom, you have a detention with Filch tomorrow night, for not knowing how to _share_."

The boy looked crestfallen, but hardly surprised, to Marian's consternation. Everyone had been telling her that Snape was a cruel and horribly biased teacher, and now her own experience seemed to back that up. And yet, she wondered how much was genuine unfairness and how much an act to appear to favor his own house and the children of Death Eaters. She supposed the ratio was something like fifty-fifty. Marian had the distinct impression that Snape wouldn't have behaved so nastily to the Gryffindor (?) boy if he hadn't caught her watching. Perhaps he was so used to being unpopular that his self-protective instinct prompted him to sabotage her good opinion now before Tonks, Sirius and Remus turned her against him.

Of course she disapproved of his unsympathetic treatment of the rabbit-like boy, but suspected that butting into Snape's business with self-righteous accusations would accomplish very little. She felt certain that he knew better than to abuse his authority by bullying students, and had most definitely been scathingly denounced for it many times before, if she knew McGonagall and Dumbledore. It was obvious to her from what she had seen and heard of Snape that he was a much damaged man. He might be petty and unpleasant, but he was also great—and noble in his way. And he had suffered terribly, all his life. No, Marian would not condemn him.

The moment he was dismissed, Longbottom made himself scarce, and the two bullies swaggered off in the opposite direction, with self-satisfied smirks on their faces. Snape watched the larger children leave, and there was something in his eyes that made her suspect that he was not as blind to their faults as he had appeared.

Marian approached the object of her curiosity, calling out cheerily, "Well met, professor!"

She had never seen him in the light of day before, but the noonday sun made his skin appear even more sallow than usual. He held his ground, commanding the space around him with his intense, powerful aura. Intimidation was a sensation with which Marian was quite unfamiliar. She was a stately sort of person, and had rarely been subjected to feelings of insignificance or intimidation. Snape was tall for a man, although probably only about six feet, and whipcord thin, but she felt inexplicably small and weak beside him. Much larger men had never had this effect on her, and it was most disconcerting. Her silky gray mantle flattered her figure, but hardly made her feel imposing when she compared it to the ebony teaching robes that draped majestically about his lithe physique.

Snape's posture seemed rather tense—although she supposed that might be his normal way of carrying himself. But he seemed to be observing her as though waiting for the other shoe to drop. "Miss…Oliver, isn't it? A pleasure, I'm sure," he answered in oily tones that left her in no doubt that he was less than thrilled to see her.

Marian chuckled and drew nearer, replying playfully, "I've never been greeted and dismissed in the same moment before. You have a wonderful voice. It conveys every nuance."

He eyed her with bemusement, noting that she wasn't going to go away immediately, and that he was apparently to be forced into a bit of small talk before she finished with him. Snape still seemed to be waiting for some criticism, for he asked disparagingly, "Well…did you enjoy the show?"

She pursed her lips and responded softly, "I never have enjoyed shows of that kind, I'm afraid."

Snape's large nostrils flared and he took her words as a personal affront. Each word dripping with venom, he asked, "Was the _resolution_ not to your liking then?"

Marian sidestepped his defensive reaction and said calmly, "You protected the boy. If you don't wish him to like you for it, that's your business. And I suspect you have your reasons. It is not my place or desire to judge them."

He appeared to be thinking over what she had said, parsing it to try to find out whether her words were motivated by fear, a desire to curry favor with him and avoid a confrontation, or genuine respect.

After a moment, the wizard seemed to relax marginally, and so she supposed that there was at least a chance that he had accepted her remarks at face-value. Marian decided to try to lighten the mood and sent him her most disarming smile. "I suppose that there's no need to ask whether you're out for business or pleasure," she remarked, casting an amused glance about her at the hordes of students.

The Potions Master sighed and returned sourly, "If you see me out at all, you can be certain that _pleasure_ has little to do with the nature of my excursion."

A lovely thought began to germinate in Marian's brain, and she asked, "How much longer do you have to remain out here herding your charges? Has no other professor been assigned to help you?"

Slightly surprised at her inquisitiveness, Snape said acidly, "I must—as you aptly said—'herd' them until sunset, when we will return to the school. The flying instructor has skulked off somewhere to shirk her duties, and is most likely getting sloshed over at the Hog's Head….But I confess myself surprised that you display such an avid interest in my comings and goings."

Marian suddenly felt rather shy, and looked up at his forbidding features with a tiny flutter of excitement. "It sounds like you have quite a dull day ahead of you," she answered sympathetically, choosing to blithely ignore his suspicious remark.

He nodded moodily, and so she continued, "It's outrageous that you're being made to waste an entire afternoon babysitting schoolchildren. For this particular assignment, I believe that you're a mite overqualified."

She grinned at him in a conspiratorial manner and continued merrily, "But I have a position that might suit you perfectly. I'm on my way to lunch, and would be most grateful for an interesting companion. We could talk about whatever you like—or nothing at all, if you prefer….Mightn't you consider?"

Marian mentally cringed at her cheesy words, and then grew embarrassed for feeling nervous as she awaited his response. Merlin help her, but her palms were sweating, as though she had just asked him on an actual date, instead of—well, whatever this was.

Snape eyed her as though she had lost her mind, and she could tell immediately that he was on the defensive. Perhaps the situation was an unfamiliar one for him…or perhaps-and her heart quelled at the thought-he sought to escape from an invitation that was both burdensome and unpleasant. His eyes flickered about restlessly, down the length of the nearly empty street to the sign for a cozy wizarding pub, The Three Broomsticks, which swung back and forth with each gust of wind. Puffs of white smoke billowed charmingly from the chimney above the thatched roof of the restaurant. He looked conflicted for a fraction of a second before zeroing in on her and asking coolly, in a very soft voice, "What do you want? It would be far more expedient to tell me now, so that we're not forced to endure each other's company longer than necessary."

Marian felt the sting of rejection, but something compelled her to push forward anyway. "I'm not your enemy, Professor," she said gently, matching his low volume, "and I hope your opinion of me is not really as low as you pretend. As it happens, your _company_ is the thing I'm after. I have no ulterior motive. I had some spare time today and had heard of the beauty of Hogsmeade, so I decided to come exploring. It was no plan of mine that brought us together, but rather a lucky chance."

The dark-haired wizard seemed to waver, and Marian likened her efforts with him to attempts to lure a wild animal into eating out of her hand (only she sensed that Professor Snape was like a creature that had long ago learned to be wary of man—and woman).

He finally tried the worn-out excuse, "I've already eaten."

Marian didn't know how she knew it, but sensed that his refusal had no real force behind it. She shivered in a particularly icy swirl of wind, and tried to lighten the atmosphere again by saying gaily, "Come with me! Please? You'll make me very happy…"

The spy's craggy features seemed chiseled from a travertine hillside. Pale and unmoved, Snape took no notice of the cold, although, judging by the way his magnetic black eyes swept over her, she had no doubt that he noticed how chilled she was becoming. Trying one last time, Marian murmured, "It's getting decidedly cold out here. If you aren't hungry, then at least join me for a drink. I'm buying."

She was surprised by his vehement response, "No, you are most certainly_ not_ buying."

Thinking that he had decided to refuse her once and for all, she was quite surprised when he glanced back at her over his shoulder and asked drily, "_Well_?"

She tried to appear nonchalant and hurried to catch up with him, feeling unexplainably warmed when she noticed the glimmer of amusement in his eyes. Snape allowed her to walk a half-step ahead of him, and when they reached the restaurant, he held open the door for her (although he ignored her murmur of thanks) and led the way through the throng to a little booth in a corner, illuminated with golden autumn light by a large, plate-glass window. Only after Marian sat down did he do the same.

She was pleased when she discovered that she had been right, and that Severus Snape was a gentleman, in spite of his snide words that conveyed another impression entirely. But she was beginning to learn to pay attention to his actions and to ignore his grumbling, because his behavior showed him to be the best of men. If Voldemort ever noticed the true nature of his spy, the war could turn very ugly, but he was just as blind as the others, easily distracted from Snape's honorable behavior by his irritably-voiced opinions.

When the proprietress, a lovely, curvy brunette, hailed by all as 'Madame Rosmerta', approached their table, Severus related Marian's selection and had no compunction about ordering lunch for himself as well, in spite of his earlier words. Marian raised her eyebrow at him, but he made no apology, only mimicking her eyebrow raise, and she had to concede that the gesture was considerably more effective when he did it.

Before the food arrived, and in between sips of ale, Marian regarded the spy from underneath her lashes. She decided that now wasn't the time to tell him about the spells she intended to deliver to him. That kind of information was far too sensitive to relay in public. But Snape intrigued her on every level, and she had been bursting to speak with him about many things. Truthfully, his rather forbidding manner was the only thing that stopped her from instantly flooding him with questions.

He said nothing for a while either, content merely to observe the woman that had demanded he join her. He supposed that she must either be very lonely or want something from him very badly, because it was unheard of for a witch to request his company. Even his colleague had shaken him off the moment they had set out from Hogwarts—although he supposed that he had been as eager for the separation as she.

But this American was far too lovely not to arouse his suspicions. There was a peculiar dignity in the way she carried herself that appealed to him, which made him find her more attractive than perhaps she was. But her face was pale and unblemished, flushed from the chill wind, and he noted absently that she carried off 'pale' far better than he did. She had cool skin tones, making her flesh gleam like rosy alabaster; while his own tints were warm, causing him always to look miserably sallow.

Her very dark brown locks were braided and twisted in a slightly windswept chignon, cleverly controlled by two small silver pins that sparkled in the light. He could tell that her hair must be very long, judging by its many coils, and it framed her oval face perfectly. He had surreptitiously observed her many times, but never before with the benefit of sunlight and proximity.

Snape thought her features regular, although he found her eyes rather notable. They were large and blue-green, shimmering with intelligence and emotion. He suspected that she was in her mid-twenties, but didn't know for certain. As much as he hated to admit it to himself, there was something about her that drew him in. Her manner lent little credence to his idea that she was desperately lonely. There was nothing about her that hinted at desperation, that most unattractive of all traits. Instead, she seemed rather self-contained, exuding independence and cool competence. He saw in her remarkable eyes the wisdom that only sorrow can mature, and felt a sudden kinship with the foreign witch. _Perhaps_, a treacherous voice whispered in his heart, _she might understand_…but about what things she might understand, he refused to think on further.

Several students currently occupied The Three Broomsticks, and Marian could hear them whispering loudly to each other about her and their potions professor. Apparently, it was quite the event for Severus Snape to be seen in the presence of a woman. If she had no trouble making out what they were saying, she knew that her silent companion could also hear every word.

When the number of gossiping students topped twenty, Severus sent a glare around the crowded restaurant that should, by rights, have turned them all to stone. It at least had the effect of making the children watch them more discreetly. Filled with annoyance, he twitched his wand. With gentle humor playing around her mouth, Marian finally broke the ice, asking amusedly, "What did you do?"

"Muffled our conversation. If I must sacrifice my time to those insolent little blighters, I refuse to surrender my privacy to them as well," he answered tetchily, his lips pursed in annoyance.

She was impressed by the nature of the spell, as well as his silent casting, a skill few wizards bothered to cultivate. She smiled at him in sympathy. "I can hardly fault you for that….But I've never heard of a spell that does such a thing. It seems a rather handy one," she remarked casually.

He looked curiously gratified and Marian knew that her suspicion was correct. The charm was one of his own devising. "It can be," he replied noncommittally, but seemed to be relaxing a bit and focusing on her, rather than his inquisitive students, most of whom appeared to have lost interest in their Potions professor and his 'date'—although the majority maintained that their teacher was far too horrible to attract anyone, and ergo must have some sort of business with her.

The food arrived and Marian spent a few quiet minutes enjoying the precision with which he cut his roast and potatoes. Whatever movement he made, no matter how ordinary, struck her as curiously elegant. She had never met anyone that had so completely captivated her—in every way. She could have watched him for hours. It was as if he lent a little of his own magic to each thing he touched, making it infinitely more special than before.

But before he had the chance to comment on how she should concentrate on her own food rather than his, she leaned forward, deciding to engage him in conversation, "I hope that you will be able to salvage what's left of this weekend. You've earned some time to yourself after an exhausting Saturday monitoring your…ah, charges."

His lips turned upwards at some secret irony and he replied with mingled resentment and tiredness, "There's no chance of that. I will be spending every minute of the next thirty-two hours concocting Lupin's Wolfsbane."

Marian was rather shocked that this task had been heaped on top of Severus' other responsibilities. "You must be joking!" she blurted, angry on the Potion Master's behalf, "Why on earth doesn't he make it for himself?"

Surprised that she seemed to find anything out of the ordinary about this, he let down his guard a little more, replying bitterly, "He has never exhibited any inclination to learn for himself. No doubt he expects that I should feel _privileged_ to have the opportunity to spend an entire weekend every month brewing his potion."

"This is outrageous," Marian seethed, "How dare he saddle you with this responsibility when you have so many others? This state of affairs has continued long enough. I won't stand for it!"

When she glanced back up at the spy, she saw a glimpse of vulnerability in his eyes, a guarded hope that perhaps someone might be on his side. It made her heart clinch. But he replied with his usual cool composure, and Marian almost second-guessed what she had seen in his face. "Is Potion-brewing one of your hidden talents then?" he asked in the delicately derisive way he had.

"Regrettably, no," she answered, choosing to remain unruffled, "but believe me; I am going to find a solution to this problem. His laziness is no excuse for the intolerable burden he has placed on you. The next time I see him, I am going to shame him before an audience…"

An ingenious, wonderful idea suddenly occurred to her, and her shapely lips curved upwards in a sly smile, drawing his eyes almost against their will. She continued, "Or perhaps...Tell me, you taught Tonks Potions, did you not?"

"I did," he answered carefully, not liking where the conversation was headed.

"Was she any good?" Marian asked curiously.

He hesitated for a moment before replying, "Tolerable. Although the girl is so clumsy that she's a constant danger to herself and others—exponentially more so in a lab. And before you suggest it, _no_, I absolutely will _not_ teach her to brew the Wolfsbane. I refuse to spend that much time in close quarters with her, not even to escape my monthly ordeal. Since the moment she joined the Order, she has done nothing but mock me and egg on her cousin and his furry compatriot."

"I understand," Marian said gently, "I won't suggest it. I _would_ ask you to teach me, but I've received no formal training in Potions and I understand that this particular one is highly advanced. It would also defeat the purpose of giving you more time to yourself, since it would take considerably more time and effort to teach me to brew it effectively than it would for you to continue on as you are now….No, I have a few ideas, and hopefully by next month—but surely by the one after—you will be relieved of all responsibilities when it comes to Remus Lupin."

Instead of smiling and thanking her, or at least regarding her with tentative hope, Severus threw her completely off-balance by narrowing his eyes and purring suspiciously, "What's the catch? What are _you_ getting out of all this? You might as well level with me, because I _will_ find out."

"Me?" she asked, completely wrong-footed. Marian took a deep breath and leaned towards him impulsively, looking him in the eye, "Alright, I _will_ level with you. Unlike the other Order members, I see you for the brave, capable, clever man that you are because my vision isn't clouded with decades of silly inter-house rivalry and schoolyard prejudice. I also see the very real danger of your position and am inclined to respect you and not to take you for granted. Undoubtedly Dumbledore and the Order will continue to use you shamelessly, so if I see an opportunity to mitigate any of your burdens, I'm going to take it."

Severus had flushed and paled alternately by the time she finished speaking, and seemed not to know what to say. But from his expression, it was clear to her that he had never been spoken to thus. Finally, and instead of replying, he changed the subject. Marian supposed that he seldom had a reason to feel gratitude, and was unaccustomed to the sensation.

"Why are you here?" he mused, turning the conversation to her, "Why have you come to fight someone else's war?"

She laughed rather shakily. "I don't suppose you'd buy most of the answers I could give. I could say that I want to matter, that I believe in the cause, that I feel I have the capacity to make a difference, that I think that Vol—You-Know-Who—I mean, presents an immediate worldwide threat….And all of those things are true, but I guess that the deciding factor was the reason most soldiers join the army: I felt lost, and the option was presented to me at the opportune moment."

Severus regarded her with a shrewd, considering gaze, and she knew instantly that this man had the uncanny ability to separate truth from fiction, and to detect and file away any information of value. He was the consummate spy. "And _why_, may I ask, did you feel lost?" he inquired hypnotically, perfectly poised now that he was back in charge and asking the questions.

Feeling cornered, she glanced uneasily around the room, and it was on the tip of her tongue to tell him to forget the whole thing. Marian wasn't a believer in baring one's soul to strangers, especially when she assumed that they weren't very likely to prove sympathetic. But the normal rules didn't apply with Severus Snape. She wanted his understanding, wanted his approval.

And so, staring unseeingly at the dull wooden surface of the table, while absently twirling a scintillating aquamarine ring around her slender finger, she admitted candidly, "I've never been very outgoing. I've always preferred the company of my own family, learning, puzzles and travel to most social interaction. My parents died five years ago, and my brothers and sister have scattered across the country. They're all married with children, while I—well, my parents were my best friends, my confidantes, and when they died, my very small social network disintegrated….So I pulled up stakes and…decided it was time for a change, that's all."

"You took on more dangerous jobs," he commented, and it was not a question.

"Sometimes," Marian answered, feeling slightly defensive, "But when you're on your own without anyone to worry about you, there's no reason to avoid jobs that are a little risky. Sometimes they have a substantially greater payoff."

The wizard appeared cool and unaffected, but she could see lines of slight disapproval gathering around his mouth.

"_Do tell_," he mused, "how many curse-breakers died working on that Romanian debacle?"

All at once, she grasped that he had observed her fiddling with her jewelry, so she stopped abruptly, clasping her hands together in her lap.

"That's hardly relevant," she answered levelly, "It was a calculated risk that paid off handsomely. Now I have enough money to last me for the rest of my life."

"As it is likely to be quite short, you're almost certainly correct," the double agent responded, as he lifted his tall glass to his lips in what appeared to be a slightly mocking toast; but his derision wasn't overt, so Marian would have felt a little foolish calling him out over it. The man really had a gift for the skillfully-placed jab.

She sighed and cut to the chase. "What are you getting at, Severus?" she inquired, and the way she drawled his given name surprised the wizard by sending a pleasant shiver down his back.

When she failed to lose her temper at his goading as he'd expected, he discarded his scornful manner in an instant, leaning forward and fixing her with a serious gaze that seemed almost…concerned. Speaking in low, earnest tones, he urged, "I want you to understand what you're getting yourself into. Events in Britain are about to grow very dire. The Dark Lord is gathering his strength. He _will_ take control of the government again—it is only a matter of time. I lived through the first war, and it was a horror….You cannot imagine the atrocities that took place. Most of the former Order members were killed, and some of the survivors have become permanent residents of the Spell-Damage Ward in St. Mungo's.

"You are out of your area. There is no puzzle to be solved—it is not that sort of situation. You're a researcher, an academic. But you've hired yourself out to us as a mercenary foot-soldier-a pawn. Dumbledore has left slack in your line for now, but there is no telling what he intends to do with you; you must never forget that he holds one end of the cord, and that the other is wrapped about your throat."

She raised her eyebrows in surprise at his analogy, knowing for a certainty that he referenced his own situation, although he hadn't said so.

The spy paused in the middle of his vehement admonition, and looked slightly sour over what he must say next. But, deciding to spare no argument that might move her to his line of thinking, he added in compelling tones, "I have no doubt that you're clever. Your line of work requires an unusual amount of logic, so you must be at least fairly rational in order to be successful. If I thought you were a hot-headed, glory-loving fool, like one of our Gryffindors, I wouldn't bother to warn you….But you have set forth on a very deadly path. Be sure of your motivation. If you have been acting contrary to your usual habits for the past few years, because you feel abandoned and in search of a purpose, know that there are other options, other worthy causes….It is not yet too late to leave."

Feeling surprisingly touched by this taciturn wizard's worry on her behalf, Marian answered ruefully, "Trust me; I'm in my right mind, and have no death wish, if that's what you're getting at….But why did you not tell me all this earlier?"

His feature twisting into a bitter grimace, he replied in tones streaked with resentment, "I would say nothing at headquarters. The Order already believes me to be treacherous. There is _no question_ as to how they would interpret my counsel."

Snape spent so much of his time wasting his breath on rebellious teenagers that he instinctively steeled himself for an insulting, obstinate reply. He had come to feel a bit like Cassandra over the years. No one took his warnings to heart—not the Order, not that blasted Potter, and not Dumbledore.

Marian met his defensive glance with eyes shining with gratitude, surprising and reassuring him. She spoke softly and meaningfully, "Thank you. It's been a very long time since anyone has looked out for my best interests. I'll think about your words, but I'm afraid I'll probably see this through to the end. The thing is, I think I've finally found my niche—this 'need within the Order', and it's become rather important to me."

He waited for a moment, expecting her to elaborate, and was slightly disappointed when she didn't. "Very well," he replied finally, and, with the hint of a smirk touching those pale lips, he added, "I'm used to scattering my words to the four winds….I teach, after all.

"I must bid you good day…Marian. I see a few of those dreadful children heading towards the outskirts of town, probably making for that thrice-cursed Shrieking Shack…," he said, a note of regret in his honeyed voice.

She smiled at him in genuine good-fellowship, and responded amiably, "I'm glad that you came. I enjoyed myself."

"I…did as well," he admitted, as though the words were being dragged out of him, but she sensed that he wasn't the sort of man to say what he didn't mean. She had come to understand that his success as a double agent was achieved by relaying selective truths, such as his genuine contempt for most of the Order members, rather than by lying outright to the Dark Lord, which would be extremely difficult, and ill-advised in all but the most critical situations. Inclining his head at her, he slipped from the booth and the restaurant with a swift, fluid grace.

Only after he had been gone for some minutes did Marian realize the sly wizard had taken the ticket with him. That infernal Severus Snape had paid for her meal! Who would have guessed that the sour spy possessed such chivalry? Every encounter served to entrench him even more firmly in her thoughts.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7: Marian Tells a Secret

That evening, she sent Severus Snape a short thank-you note for lunch. Part of her longed for a reply, even though she knew that one was unnecessary and unlikely. But her desire for a response surprised her. Trying to shake that inexorable, enigmatic man from her thoughts, she began to turn her mind towards the problem of the Wolfsbane. Deciding that the best course of action was to involve Tonks from the very beginning, she Flooed her flat. Even though it was a Saturday night, she felt fairly certain that she would find her at home, mooning over Remus. Secretly, Marian believed her friend could do better, but she supposed that she might be a bit prejudiced against him, already unconsciously siding with his dark-haired adversary.

"Marian!" Tonks exclaimed, leaping up from the couch where she had been polishing a shiny new broom, "What brings you to my humble abode?"

"I've had an idea! May I come through?" she inquired, hating how uncomfortable it felt to kneel and thrust one's head forward into the fireplace simultaneously.

After she stepped through, sneezed, and dusted herself off, she got straight to business. "I've thought of a way to help you win over Remus!" she declared, to Tonks' delight.

"Well, don't leave me in suspense! Spill!" the witch said, practically bouncing in her seat on the rather dusty sofa, and her hair went instantaneously from mousy brown to bubblegum pink.

"Today I went to explore Hogsmeade, and while I was there I ran into Professor Snape," Marian began.

Her friend made a moue of disgust and said, "I can see how that would spoil your day. What happened next?"

Marian rolled her eyes and continued as if the witch hadn't spoken, relating flatly, "He's very busy, and tired of making the Wolfsbane for Remus once a month."

"No surprise there," Tonks spat, "He's always hated Remus."

Marian felt rising indignation on Snape's behalf, and was tempted to point out the difference between Snape's exertions on behalf of his enemy and Lupin's own laziness and disinterest in helping himself, but she knew that this would be counterproductive and only serve to estrange Tonks. And so Marian breezed past her friend's reaction and said, "Don't you see? This is an opportunity! _You_ can make the Wolfsbane. We'll find someone to teach you—_not_ Professor Snape," she interjected hurriedly, "but another Potions Master. Brewing the Wolfsbane will show Remus the lengths that you're willing to go for him, that you're willing to take serious steps to accommodate his situation. It would reveal your maturity and prove that you truly accept his condition. If you did this for him every month, always keeping track of the cycles of the moon, he would start to realize that a future with you would be practical. He might begin to think that he would be even less dangerous under your care than on his own. Remus already cares about you; his 'furry problem' is the obstacle, and all the complications that arise from it.

"Also, it would probably be a very good thing for someone else in the Order to know how to brew something so critical, considering Professor Snape's precarious position. If anything happened to him and cut off the supply of potion, Remus would be in very bad shape indeed."

Marian had watched her friend's face carefully as she spoke, and noticed the dawning of a desperate hope in her eyes. Long before the end of her opening argument, Tonks was completely won over. "Merlin, you're a genius!" the pink-haired witch breathed.

Her friend smiled at her enthusiasm. She believed all the words of her claim, and was pleased to be able to help Remus and Tonks, even though the real motivator was the unapproachable, beguiling wizard of her thoughts.

Tonks leapt to her feet and exclaimed theatrically, "This calls for a drink!"

Much amused, Marian reached out and caught the two wineglasses that soared towards them, as Tonks' hands were occupied by the bottle that had sailed in from the kitchen a moment before. "Here's to a plan of attack!" Marian toasted with a smile.

"Skoal!" the Auror replied, grinning in return.

"So, who will you get to teach you?" Marian asked after a few moments, filled with relief that Tonks had been so easy to convince.

"Well, Britain only has one other Potions Master. Professor Slughorn retired from Hogwarts at the end of my first year, but I hear that he's still in the area, selling rare ingredients on the black market and that sort of thing. I'm always coming across evidence of his questionable transactions when I make raids on the apothecaries in Knockturn Alley. You wouldn't believe some of the things we find..." she trailed off, smiling in remembrance.

"That's excellent! Since he's not a model citizen, it will be even easier to gain his assistance. You _are_ an Auror after all," Marian remarked in satisfaction.

"That's true. He's always liked me, and should be only too glad to gain friends in law enforcement. Besides, I'll pay him well for his trouble—my grandparents have left me diamonds that even you with your dragon's treasure wouldn't believe," the pixyish Auror confided.

For the rest of the evening, Tonks fantasized about how wonderful it would be when she could approach Remus with his goblet of potion. She played out the scenario a dozen times in conversation (and each time it ended with Remus realizing how much he loved and needed her, to be followed by a rather passionate interlude). Tonks was so enthused that she didn't even wait for Marian to leave before pulling out her Potions volumes to begin researching the ingredients and procedure. There was something so fierce and single-minded about the woman's devotion to this plan that made the American realize, not only that the Auror must truly love the scruffy-looking werewolf, but that this scheme was surprisingly likely to succeed. She couldn't wait to tell Severus!

Tonks intended to visit Slughorn the next day with her request, and was aiming to provide Remus' potion herself in time for the full moon after next. If she was to be successful, she certainly had an intense couple of months ahead of her. Filled with sympathy for her friend and satisfaction at a job well done, Marian finally excused herself and headed home, although Tonks hardly noticed, as she bent over an old tome furiously writing notes.

Marian barely saw Tonks for the next several weeks, and wondered how she was progressing. She was looking forward to telling Snape that his burden had been lifted almost as much as Tonks was anticipating giving the potion to Remus. But Marian herself was hardly idle, and before she knew it, it was the week of Thanksgiving.

Molly had invited her over and cooked a feast in honor of the American holiday. Marian had brought her puppy, Ms. Bear, to the Burrow after extracting every assurance short of an Unbreakable Vow that the twins wouldn't test any of their joke shop products on her. They had confided that their business had really taken off by catalog, and that they were going to be a household name before long. Marian believed them. She didn't know what they were doing spending Saturday at home, because they were supposed to be in school until Christmas Break, but she decided that if their mother didn't mind that they were obviously breaking school rules, then she didn't either.

That evening, when they all sat around the hearth laughing and telling stories, they received notice that there would be an impromptu Order meeting that night. Apparently, something had happened at the Department of Mysteries and Dumbledore had instructions to give out to some of the members. There had been a few meetings since the day of her luncheon with Snape and the discussion of the Wolfsbane with Tonks, but she had had no opportunity to talk to either of them since, as both had been arriving exactly as the meetings started and leaving as soon as possible. Also, Sirius Black had formed the habit of sticking to her like a burr, sitting by her at each gathering. She suspected that this hardly endeared her to Snape.

Marian Flooed home to drop off Ms. Bear, then Flooed again to Grimmauld Place to join Molly and Arthur for one of the most boring meetings yet. Nothing Dumbledore talked about had any real relevance for her. She had nothing to do with the Department of Mysteries. Snape had no report this week, and sat silently at the far end of the table, hardly batting an eyelash. She struggled to keep herself from fidgeting, and wondered how he was able to stay so still, like carved marble.

As soon as the meeting ended, she was the first one out of her chair. She glided through the door before anyone could engage her in small talk. Almost immediately, Snape stalked past, his robes billowing out and rustling against the fabric of her soft brown dress, embroidered in autumn leaves. She fell into step beside him and when they reached the front door, he finally turned to her and raised an eyebrow.

"Are you going to tell me what's on your mind sometime tonight? Unlike you, I do not have unlimited time at my disposal," he snarked, although there was no real bite behind his words. She could even have sworn that there was gentle humor in his tone.

"I need to speak with you," she murmured.

Surprised and a bit curious, he said, "Very well," and looked at her expectantly.

Marian glanced around furtively and said in a hushed voice, "Not here! I have information for you, and we can expect no real privacy in this house."

She had succeeded in piquing his interest. Marian seemed to realize this, because after cocking her head and listening for a moment, she urged him to move their conversation outside, saying, "I hear people coming this way….Where would you like to go? I have a house, or we could go to yours. Wherever you like."

He scowled in thought for a moment before saying, "We'll go to yours."

She grabbed her cloak and they walked outside, standing on the front steps for a moment while the chill wind whipped their robes in all directions. Then Marian hesitantly stepped into the arms of a very shocked Severus Snape. She held onto him tightly, pressing her cheek against the warm wool of his robes, before she looked up and said, "Forgive me if I seem a bit forward. I would grab your arm, but I've never Side-Along Apparated anyone before, so I just want to be sure."

Before he could react, they had already appeared in her entryway. She pulled away from him with alacrity, trying desperately not to allow herself to become distracted by the way his body felt against hers, but she could tell that her pulse had kicked up a notch. She tried to play it cool and hoped he didn't notice.

Marian rarely touched anyone, being naturally aloof. She disliked when most people stood too close or even touched her platonically. She didn't know why it made her uncomfortable—she had never been abused or anything of the sort, but she had always discouraged people from encroaching on her 'air space'. She felt those that pawed at her took too much for granted, assuming a familiarity that didn't exist. But with Severus, it was different. She found herself reaching out to him, taking full advantage of the fact that he didn't know where she lived to perform a rather unnecessarily physical Side-Along Apparition.

When she glanced up at him, a bit sheepish, he appeared distinctly irritated, and spoke in an icy tone that was only one notch below his 'dangerous' tone, "So…you decided it would be _amusing_ to use me as a test subject for your first Side-Along Apparition. Either way, I suppose you win. If the attempt is successful, then you can bask in your own arrogance, and if you fail, then I get Splinched as a bonus. I'm sure it would make for a_ hilarious_ story to tell those diabolical twins, or the werewolf…Or perhaps that flea-bitten mongrel that can't bear to let you out of his sight." Severus was working himself into a fit of righteous anger.

"Stop it!" Marian interjected, "I would never hurt you. _Ever_. I will always do what I can to help you—that's why I brought you here. If there had been the slightest chance of Splinching you, I never would have Apparated us. I guess I wasn't completely honest with you before. I've never brought a _person_ with me, but I've Apparated with Ms. Bear many times, and never had any problems. You may think it was arrogant of me not to have any doubts, but I knew it would be easy, and it was. I prefer to call it a healthy confidence in my own abilities."

He scoffed and looked like he was about to say something, so Marian continued hurriedly, "I know you don't have a lot of time to call your own, and I thought it would be quicker if I just Apparated us rather than wrote out the address and gave you a bunch of instructions that could potentially be overheard. But I'm sorry if I offended you. I won't ever Apparate you anywhere without your permission again. And for the record, Remus is not a flea-bitten….Wait a minute, you already covered him. So who was the flea-bitten mongrel?"

Snape smirked when she unintentionally insulted Lupin, before he practically spat out, "Black. He's an Animagus."

"Oh," she said, momentarily drawn down the rabbit trail, "I had heard that. What animal?"

"He's a dog. It seems appropriate that he transforms into an animal that likes to eat its own excrement," He said viciously.

"Not _all_ dogs do…What breed?" Marian asked, momentarily distracted from their argument.

He rolled his eyes, "Why so interested? I don't know….A big black mutt."

"That's ironic," she smirked, "considering his famously pure blood. I would have expected something more like a sort of terrier or greyhound…or _poodle_."

Marian had added "poodle" deliberately, knowing that the moment she said it that Severus' mood would be restored. He smirked appreciatively, "A 'poodle'? I would give a great deal to see Black's face if he heard that your mind immediately jumped to 'poodle' when you heard he was a canine Animagus."

"Hey, I was just naming a few random pure breeds….You'd better not tell him!" she said defensively, fighting a grin, "But never mind that; let's get down to business. Please come into the living room and I'll get us something to drink."

Appeased for the time being, Severus followed her, his attention arrested momentarily by a large mosaic mounted above her sofa. It was of wondrous beauty, made up entirely of Byzantine glass. The creation was inspired, portraying every gorgeous color he could imagine, blues in profusion, blood reds…gold tesserae that shone so brilliantly that he suspected they actually contained gold leaf. The piece of art depicted the Procession of the Holy Grail and was entirely Muggle, although it was so lovely that he would have expected to find it on the wall of a medieval basilica, rather than in a young witch's living room.

Severus lived in a castle, and had become accustomed to beautiful things, but this was…something set apart. Looking at it, he felt an almost holy awe. "_Where_ did you get this?" he asked, and Marian marveled at the difference in his voice when he left off his hostility. It was silky and cultured even when he was verbally eviscerating someone, but when it was missing its usual malice, his voice cast a spell of its own. She wondered if he knew its potency—the power it had over her. Marian shivered at the thought of that bedroom voice murmuring in her ear.

She shook her head to clear her thoughts, "Oh, I made it—actually, not that one. I made the one in my real house, but I transfigured a copy because I had spent many an hour cutting and placing tiles the Muggle way on the original, and was rather proud of it. I'm not artistic, but I fell in love with the mosaics I had seen in the cathedrals, and when I found that I couldn't buy anything at all like them, I decided to make one. And then I thought of the theme, and, well, the Quest for the Holy Grail is inspiring," she trailed off, embarrassed at herself. He was her first visitor, and she felt like a kindergartner proudly showing off a piece of macaroni art on the refrigerator.

Severus saw Marian in a new light. He sensed that the same wild beauty and attention to detail that were so luminous here could be found in everything about her. He couldn't help but compare her to him, and shuddered with horror. He knew he was clever, and had long gloried in the fact, but secretly felt that everything he did was pervaded by darkness and bitterness. His soul contained nothing that was beautiful or sacred.

Troubled, he turned his back on his musings, giving her his full attention once again. "Your _real_ house?" he asked, certain that he had misheard.

"Well," she flushed when she realized that she had just accidentally told him one of her secrets, because she had been distracted by her inappropriate thoughts about his voice, "I shouldn't have told you that. Please don't tell anyone else. The truth is that I still live in my house in America, which is secret-kept. No one else in Britain knows it exists, and I'd like to keep it that way. Everyone believes that this is my residence. I set up an illicit international Floo connection, so I entertain here, and am immediately notified if I have visitors, but I actually live in my other house in the United States….By the way, now that you know….Would you mind terribly if I popped out for a second and brought Ms. Bear through? I brought her home before the meeting started, and she probably misses me." As she was speaking, she had walked over to the sideboard and pulled out two glasses and two bottles of wine, hesitating between the two. "I don't know if it is considered uncouth to offer a wizard Muggle wine. It tastes exceptional, but I also have some Elf-Made if you would prefer."

He lazily inclined his head towards the Muggle bottle, and said, "That is…adequate….Go fetch your little creature, but hurry. I don't have all night. And it sounds like you have many secrets to tell."

"I do," she murmured, as she stepped into the Floo, "but you won't be hearing them all tonight."

She was back in a moment, holding a small white animal that wriggled rapturously in her arms. "Is that a…dog?" Snape asked dubiously.

"Of course she's a dog. The best of dogs," Marian said defensively, as she sank gracefully to the floor and allowed the puppy to hop in and out of her lap excitedly.

Suddenly, Snape's eyes narrowed, and in an authoritative voice he said, "Bring her to me."

Marian gave him a questioning look, but rose and carried the puppy to him. And then Severus did a very peculiar thing. He held the little creature at arm's length, and it tilted its small, foxlike head up and gazed at him with large, curious brown eyes. Snape locked eyes with the animal, and broke contact several seconds later, putting the puppy on the ground and letting it run over to Marian, lick her once, and then run through its magically enhanced doggy door.

"Did you just use _Legilimency_ on my _dog_?" Marian asked in outrage.

Snape seemed surprised that she had recognized what he had done, but took a sip of his wine and then leaned forward, speaking with cool conviction, "Yes. Considering my experiences with other 'dogs', I wasn't inclined to take any chances. And for that matter, how did you know what I was doing? Legilimency should hardly fall under your purview. That fact alone is nearly suspicious enough to make me use it on you as well. Right now, if I wasn't a guest in your…home, I would have you up against the wall and be inside your mind so fast that you wouldn't even have time to _think_ of resisting me…."

Marian was furious at herself for the shiver of arousal she felt at his words, and burst out angrily, "You know what, go ahead and try it! You may find that I'm not quite as easy prey as my puppy."

"Do not tempt me," he murmured, with a dangerous look in his eye, "And drop the act. You don't trust me anymore than I trust you. I know very well how I am viewed within the Order of the Phoenix, and, for all your soft words, deep down you're just as uncertain as to where my true loyalties lie as the rest of them. So let's just get to the purpose of this visit and then I'll be out of your house and you can go help that ridiculous little creature of yours lick its wounds."

"For such a clever man, you certainly misinterpret on a regular basis. I know you're a spy, and I don't expect you to trust me past a point, but you're completely off-base if you don't believe that I trust you. Of_ course_ I trust you. I'm not an idiot, _Professor Snape_! Even if your actions didn't speak so clearly on your behalf, I would _still_ believe in you. Professor Dumbledore isn't at all the sentimental old fool he enjoys pretending to be. I imagine that he made you swear an Unbreakable Vow the minute you entered his service."

Snape's eyes glittered with something, but his expression didn't change. Marian took this as a tacit acknowledgment and continued, "Dumbledore is much more likely to have done this than the Dark Lord, whom I know for a fact hasn't made you swear, because of all the ways you help us. You're constantly rescuing that little Harry Potter and his friends, and if you'll go to such lengths for them, when you obviously can't stand them, it's perfectly obvious that any respectable Unbreakable Vow to the Dark Lord would have killed you long ago.

"It's not surprising that Vol—the Dark Lord is blinded by a serious god complex. It seems to me that he relies far too much on the fear he inspires and his fame as a Legilimens. But Dumbledore seems very sure of you, and I would bet everything I have that it's because of an ironclad vow, and not because he 'believes in second chances' or any other kindhearted impulse. He's a general in a war, and many lives and the future of the world are at stake….An Unbreakable Vow also explains why he can't give the others a reason for his trust in you. It would spectacularly blow your cover.

"The reason I asked you here tonight is that I have created two spells that I would like to give you, if you want them. Here is the first," and with that, she held out a piece of parchment that she must have recovered during her Floo journey home and slid it across the coffee table to him.

His eyes flicked down at the page, taking in the formulae before asking quietly, "What is this?"

Relieved that he seemed to be tacitly accepting her truce, she began to explain, "In the summer before university, I became obsessed with finding a way around Veritaserum. I hated the idea of being compelled to reveal what I wished to keep hidden. I've never been very good at Potions, but had heard that there had been numerous attempts to create a potion to inoculate oneself against Veritaserum."

Beginning to be intrigued, he nodded, and she continued, "But I realized that there were also many truth _spells_, and that the words one utters over two particular ingredients in all truth potions had the same roots as all known truth spells. That whole summer I worked on Arithmancy calculations, plugging in variables in every language I could read. Eventually, I hit on the answer—in Greek. It took a bit more work to make the spell permanent and to keep it from degrading over time, but several months later I found the right runes.

"Once the charm is cast on a person, he is immune to all known truth potions and truth spells for the rest of his life. I cast it on myself as soon as I perfected it, but then I began to realize the implications of my actions. If this spell got out, then the authorities and unscrupulous people would need to use alternate methods to verify the truth of what a person said…Legilimency, which has almost died out…torture. So I made one copy and hid it where no one would ever find it, but couldn't bring myself to completely destroy it. I always believed that it would come in handy again someday. When I met you, I realized that, in your line of work, you were the perfect candidate for it. So now I pass it to you. Use it; burn it; use it, then burn it. Do as you will."

He pored over the paper, practically searing it with the intensity of his gaze. After several silent moments, he looked up at her with guarded appreciation, but that was reward enough for Marian. She knew that he believed her, and that she had impressed him.

"Do you have any Veritaserum on you?" she asked.

With a glint in his eye, he immediately produced a vial of the colorless liquid. Somehow, Marian wasn't at all surprised. She met his gaze and leaned forward, slightly tilting her head back and opening her mouth in an invitation that Snape couldn't help but find incredibly erotic, despite the circumstances. His eyes never left hers as he placed three drops on her tongue, hesitated, and placed two more. Three was the standard dose for every body type, and more than five drops was just a waste of potion. After a few moments, he asked, "What is your name?"

"Severus Snape," she deadpanned, speaking exactly as a person drugged with Veritaserum would speak.

"What is your occupation?" he asked, beginning to get excited in earnest.

"I am the heavyweight boxing champion of the world," she replied.

Satisfied with her ability to lie under Veritaserum, he began to question her about the spell itself in an attempt to satisfy his extreme curiosity. "What does it feel like?" he asked keenly, "Can you detect the potion or does the spell neutralize all of its effects?"

"No—I thought it might come in handy to _know_ if someone had drugged me, so that I could react accordingly, so I kept the side-effect of the sluggish tongue. It makes one sound genuine, even when telling the most outrageous lies," she said with a grin, reaching to tuck a few loose strands of hair behind her ear.

"I didn't know if you would be interested, but I thought it might come in handy for a man in your position. I knew long ago that if I ever shared this, it could only ever be with an incredibly gifted Occlumens as well as someone unusually clever. Anyone else could easily give the game away," Marian finished, rising from the carpet to take a seat in the armchair opposite him. Wordlessly, he handed her the antidote and she worked her jaw a few times to get the feeling back, after she swallowed it and returned the vial.

She found that Severus' face was practically transfigured with the thrill of discovery. His cheeks had a hectic flush, his eyes were bright and dancing with exultation, and she suddenly understood him a little better. The joy of happening across a clever, useful spell was something with which she was quite familiar. She hoped fervently that someday his circumstances would be such that he could experience this pleasure more often.

As he read over her calculations for the fifth or sixth time, he began to murmur out loud, "I never thought such a thing was possible—Adenhaurer's Law states that potions must be counteracted with other potions. But to create a charm to do this—and to have it work so successfully….It's a pity you can't publish this work. You've broken new magical ground here."

Marian practically bounced in her chair with happiness, and reached down to scoop up Ms. Bear. She began absently combing her fingers through the long, silky white fur and asked, with downcast eyes, "Well, do you think that this will be something you'll want to make use of?"

Severus favored her with a raised eyebrow and an exasperated huff, "I can see that you're searching for compliments, and I'm afraid that after this creation, I must give them to you. Yes, this will give me considerably more peace of mind. The Dark Lord usually relies on Legilimency, but he has forced me to produce Veritaserum for him in the past. I have many enemies among the Death Eaters, and I have always feared that, with the proper persuasion, the Dark Lord would be amused at the idea of testing me by using my own potions against me—and I would be helpless against them—until now."

"Would you like me to cast the charm or would you prefer to do it yourself?" she asked.

He looked over the paper again and said, "This spell appears to be nonverbal…and wandless. How unusual. There are few with the capacity to perform it."

"I'm well aware that you have that capacity though," Marian replied dryly.

"I have, but you have done it before, and I wish for no mistakes. Cast it on me now," he urged, in a forceful tone.

Marian rose and stood before him, staring at him fixedly, uttering no incantation. A few moments later, she announced that she was finished. No flash of light indicated that a spell had been cast, and Marian marveled at the change in Severus' attitude in the last half hour. No matter what he said, he had just trusted her with something terribly important—his life could be at stake if she had changed anything at all—for example, by leaving off the part of the charm that made it permanent.

"I felt the magic course through me," he murmured, as he unstoppered the Veritaserum and counted five drops off onto his tongue, without even a moment's hesitation. After a minute, Snape nodded to Marian, and she began to question him.

"How old are you?" she asked, enunciating carefully.

"Three hundred and forty-seven years old," he answered with a slight slur.

"Who is your hero?" she asked, and smirked when he responded ironically, "It's a tie between Harry Potter and Sirius Black."

"Are you sure this Veritaserum isn't still working? I mean, that answer seemed to come from the heart," Marian said, and started to laugh. A grin seemed to be tugging at his lips, but before he could put her in her place with a stinging retort, she settled down again and asked soberly, "So what will you do with the paper now?"

He hesitated for a moment while he swallowed the antidote and finally said, "I wonder if I ought to give it to Dumbledore. As a matter of fact, I wonder why _you_ didn't bring it to him directly."

"I was going to, but then I heard a story about him that made me change my mind. He has not always protected you the way he should."

Severus looked like he was about to ask her what she was referring to, but she forestalled him with a raised hand, "It's really not important. Please, ask me another time….The thing is, I only wanted this spell for you. You're the only one in a position to need it. The more people that know about it, the more danger you're in.

"Besides the exponentially increased risk of being exposed to the Dark Lord, you might have to stand trial after the war. Bureaucrats may not accept the fact that you were working undercover but not under Ministry control, and if word ever got out that your testimony couldn't be verified, you wouldn't have the ghost of a chance in front of the Wizengamot. Dumbledore might have wanted to give this spell out to several of his people, and I couldn't take that chance. I figured that since I had created it, it was my call. But now I have passed my rights to you, and you are more than welcome to give it to him if you feel you ought to do it. I will respect your judgment," she finished.

For a moment, he appeared torn, but Severus Snape was not the sort of man that took overly long to make up his mind. "Everything in me rejects the idea of destroying such a novel discovery, and yet, that's exactly what I'm going to do. I'm afraid it's necessary," he said regretfully, and waved his hand, causing the parchment to burst into flames. Marian felt a bittersweet satisfaction as she watched him dispose of the charm that had taken up so much of her time and ingenuity. After a moment, she suddenly remembered that she had something else to show him.

"I have another spell. It's just as illegal as the last and potentially just as useful," Marian confided, placing Ms. Bear onto the cushion next to her as she rose, brushed the wrinkles out of her skirt and poured them each another glass of wine.

"Yes?" he asked, his eyes glittering with interest.

She smiled a little self-deprecatingly and said, "Many of my spells have a common theme. I'm sure you'll think I'm paranoid—well, perhaps _you_ won't, but most people would. I hate any kind of interference or compulsion—especially magical—that violates my rights. Memory charms can be an unspeakable evil—I've heard of so many situations where people were abused and their memories wiped so that the perpetrator could escape justice, or where someone was jealous of another person's knowledge and caused him to forget everything he had ever learned. I began work a couple of years ago on a spell designed to permanently protect one from memory charms, but, by the time I'd finished, I'd gotten some results I hadn't anticipated."

"What were they?" he asked interestedly, idly tracing his long pale finger around the rim of his wine glass.

"Instead of only memory charms, the spell blocks all attempts to tamper with the mind—as far as I can tell, it frustrates all known forgetfulness spells and theoretically, the Imperius Curse," Marian told him proudly.

He set his glass down with a loud clink. "The Imperius Curse—_is it possible_?" he exclaimed, his smooth voice charged with exhilaration, "To my mind, that is the most insidious and deeply evil of the three Unforgivables. The other two curses attack a person, but this last curse can make the victim the culprit, or a participant in whatever perversion the caster has intended. I've seen unspeakable horrors conducted with it, and the problem is that even if someone has a very strong ability to resist the curse, weakness, torture, and any kind of exhaustion—mental, physical, or magical are all able to destroy one's resistance. Tell me, have you tested it?" Marian had never heard him speak with such intensity.

"No. Because I told no one, I had no way to physically conduct the experiment. My deduction comes entirely from calculations. I cast the charm on myself two years ago, and once again I added the variable that prevents the spell from deteriorating over time. Cast the Imperius on me," she compelled.

Marian needn't have told Severus twice. In the pursuit of knowledge, he was remorseless. She felt the spell hit her moments later, and then heard his low voice urge her to take a sip of wine.

She was tempted to drink, but only because of the lovely persuasiveness of his voice, and not because of any magical compulsion. She stood there smiling at him.

Then, "Sit," he ordered. She stood. Unbidden, the thought of him urging, 'Kiss me' in that mellifluous voice sent a tide of lust rushing through her. She glanced away, refusing to meet the gaze of a powerful Legilimens while she was broadcasting such inappropriate thoughts. Abruptly, he canceled the spell.

"What happened?" he asked anxiously, "You're flushed. Did you have to fight off the curse?"

"No," she answered, momentarily shocked at being called out, "I could feel the magic of the spell, but it didn't affect me."

"Are you sure?" he asked with lingering doubt.

"Completely. I'm just excited," And then she changed the subject. "I knew it would work!" she exclaimed, "I'm glad you're interested in this charm. I kept hold of the one copy of the spell for much the same reason as the other. I always knew that I would find a use for it, even if I would never be able to trust anyone but an Occlumens. Even without the side-effect of making the Imperius Curse unfeasible, I realize that it would be highly dangerous if it was to get out. Victims and witnesses to crimes would start being killed instead of Obliviated—a serious body count could result if the charm ever became mainstream.

"And that reminds me, while we're at it, we should probably test the spell's primary function. Since the Obliviate is the most common as well as the most powerful of the memory charms, let's use that….Any time you're ready," she told Severus, who watched her in bemusement, as if he'd never before seen such an intriguing creature. The way he was looking at her made Marian feel interesting and feminine.

"I'm going to Obliviate the last ten minutes only," he said quietly, with wand poised to strike.

She nodded and felt the tell-tale tingle that she had added into her spell during its creation that would alert her to an attempt to tamper with her mind. Apparently, he preferred using nonverbal magic as well.

Severus asked, "What commands did I give you just now when you were under the Imperius Curse?"

"First you said 'Drink' and then you said 'Sit'," she intoned obediently.

"Well, you've done it," he whispered, as he sank back onto the sofa.

"I'm so glad," Marian murmured, and then added, "It just occurred to me that there are many people that wouldn't be interested in this spell if it was offered to them. For example, I'm sure you have many things you'd rather forget—the things you've seen among the Death Eaters, for instance. Someday, you might decide to wipe out that chapter in your mind. I'm sure lots of people would want that option."

"But obviously not you," he said sardonically, and she grinned in response. He paused for a beat and then continued, his words becoming more vehement as he went along, "I also detest any form of manipulation. Self-obliviation is nothing more than evidence of a weak character. The one that indulges in this has his counterpart in the person that turns to potions to escape emotional pain. Both are pathetic. I have many regrets, but refuse to sacrifice a single moment's worth of knowledge or to pretend that certain events never happened. Just because I wouldn't be able to remember them wouldn't make them any less a part of reality. I cannot conceive of damaging my mind in a pitiful attempt to shore up my emotions."

Marian's respect for him increased exponentially as he spoke, and when he finished, she asked softly, "Would you like me to cast the spell on you now?"

After a moment's thought, he asked, "Does it prevent the mind from being accessed by Legilimency?"

"No," Marian answered pensively, "The charm only blocks attempts to tamper with the mind. A Legilimens reviews memories, but doesn't alter anything."

"Very well. The Dark Lord would be most suspicious if my mind was completely closed off to his review. I can't imagine surviving very long in that eventuality. But you may cast the spell now," he said, marveling at the trust he had placed in this girl.

A few moments later, Marian said, "Shall I test it?"

He nodded, and he flawlessly resisted both the Imperius and the Obliviate. Eyes shining with excitement, Marian exclaimed, "I'm so happy! It's wonderful to finally be able to share these spells with someone after keeping them a secret for so long. What do you think-must we destroy this as we did the other one?"

Severus unconsciously brushed a lock of silky black hair away from his face and said musingly, "I do not think so. This charm is something that would be useful for everyone—not just the two of us. But you were right about not trusting anyone but an Occlumens. We cannot ever allow knowledge of this spell to leak out. So far, the Dark Lord remains unaware of you, but if he heard that you had the ability to create such a charm, he would make a substantial effort to acquire you, and if you proved recalcitrant.…"

"I get it," she said grimly, "He would make me an offer I couldn't refuse."

Snape gave her an odd look and said, "Precisely. But since it's a wandless, nonverbal spell, we could potentially cast it on Order members without their knowledge. They would have the benefit of the spell's protection, and would present no liability."

Marian shook her head vehemently, "You know we can't do that. It defeats the whole purpose of the spell if we take away their free will under the assumption that we know what's 'best' for them. These are grown witches and wizards we're talking about. I can't justify taking away their choice—regardless of the tangible benefits."

"But you know that if we could offer it to them that every single person would accept," he disputed, although his eyes retained a rather soft light even while arguing with her.

"It doesn't matter though," Marian said tiredly, "I only see three ways—one, we destroy it here and now. Two, we keep it to ourselves for the present, but retain the possibility of telling someone else about it in the future. Or three, we tell Dumbledore and a few other Order members and cast it on them with their full permission."

"I assume you weren't in whatever the American equivalent of Slytherin House was at your boarding school," Severus said with gentle humor. "There are always other options. For instance, I have heard students play a game where they ask each other inane hypotheticals. They say things like, 'Would you rather fight a troll or five goblins?' or 'Would you rather come down with dragon pox or do a month's worth of detentions?' What if you initiated a game like this, and threw in a question where you could ferret out their feelings on your spell. Say something like, 'Would you rather have a spell cast on you that would permanently protect you from memory charms or would you rather keep the option to be Obliviated in case something traumatic happened to you later on?' I don't think you should mention anything about the Imperius Curse—no one will object to that aspect of the spell," he finished with a self-satisfied smirk as he took in her admiring grin.

"You're a genius!" she exclaimed happily, "That's the perfect solution. We can protect the others without any safety risks. By the way, do you want to keep the copy of the spell?"

"No, you keep it," he murmured, rising, "You've done a good job of keeping it safe so far. Besides, I memorized it…both of them actually."

Marian stood as well, and the puppy lazily cocked open one eye as she gently transferred her from her lap to the armchair's warm seat. As Severus began to move towards the door, she said, "You're welcome to use the Floo. I don't like the idea of you having to make the long trek up to the castle in the cold," and then she blushed slightly, worried that she might appear overly concerned about him.

Severus looked at her for a moment as though he couldn't quite figure her out, his lips curved slightly in bemusement, before he answered briskly, "I'm fairly certain that the Floos in Hogwarts are being monitored, and I do not want you to draw the attention of those Ministry stooges. Besides, I'll appreciate the walk; I have a lot to think about after tonight."

"Very well," she said with a sigh, "But wait just a moment and I'll add you to my wards so that you can Apparate from inside." When he didn't argue, she stood perfectly still and concentrated for a few moments, before saying "All clear," with a half-smile.

But before he could Disapparate, Marian stopped him rather shyly and asked, "By the way, what did you see when you looked into Ms. Bear's mind?"

He shot her a puzzled glance as he finished buttoning his cloak and queried, "Have you really never looked for yourself?"

"I'm afraid I can't," she replied, "You see, I'm not a Legilimens. I taught myself Occlumency from a book, but have never had anyone to practice with—the downsides of learning an arcane skill in secret. And earlier tonight, when you threatened to look into my mind….well, I wouldn't mind it if you did. Repelling a Legilimens is really the only way to test myself. Although I didn't want to have to do it while you were angry, of course," she added hurriedly.

Severus shifted slightly and had an almost guilty look, "Marian, I'm sorry. I had no real intention of forcing my way into your mind. I would only do that to someone in an absolute life or death situation."

She raised an eyebrow skeptically, "And what about Ms. Bear?"

Exasperated, Snape said, "Contrary to your evident belief, she is not a person. Besides, I was very gentle."

When Marian gave him a mutinous look and opened her mouth to give him a piece of her mind, he neatly cut her off, asking, "Did she look upset to you?"

Slightly deflated, Marian said, "I suppose not. But still, it must be very traumatic to have one's mind invaded…."

As Severus tugged on his remaining glove with great precision, he rejoined impatiently, "It can be….But I'm not so unenlightened that I lack the knowledge of when to be gentle and when to be…rough. As for what I saw in that creature's mind, surely you know."

"I'm sure I can't imagine," Marian replied archly, tingling from Severus' words and wondering if he was aware of his beguiling double entendre.

His eyes glittered in the firelight as he murmured, "You. Always, only you."

And with a nod in her direction, he Disapparated with a pop.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8: Snakebites and Dog Bites

The first week of December, a disheveled by happy Tonks met her at her flat. "I've done it! I successfully brewed my first batch of Wolfsbane! I made it a little early so that I'd have time to do it over in case I got it wrong the first time. But I didn't!" she gloated, mischievously changing her hair to crazy-looking purple spikes.

"I'm going to deliver it in three days….What should I wear?" Tonks asked, suddenly anxious. This question had clearly not occurred to her before.

"Let's go take a look at your closet. We'll find the perfect outfit, or we'll Transfigure it," Marian assured her.

An hour later, as they sorted through the Auror's bedroom closet with determination, Marian asked casually, "By the way, did you let Professor Snape know that he doesn't need to brew the Wolfsbane anymore?"

Not bothering to look up from the pile of shoes she was sorting through, Tonks replied absently, "No. He'll figure it out."

Dropping the clothes hanger in her hand, Marian said in consternation, "But Tonks, if you don't tell him, he'll spend his whole weekend brewing a superfluous potion. And you know that the shelf-life is only a week long. It won't last until Remus' next transformation and will be wasted."

"At least brewing in the dungeons will keep him out of everyone's hair for a couple of days," she retorted unrepentantly.

"Tonks, that's just…wrong," Marian said quietly.

The small, purple-haired witch looked up at her with large, liquid eyes and said, "I give up….You're right. I'll tell the big-nosed git…._But I really don't want to_," she finished in a small, mutinous voice.

"Then let me," Marian said, softening her glare, "I'm actually quite looking forward to telling him….But I think it would be courteous of you to send him a line and maybe—dare I say it-_thank_ him for the dozens of times he's been forced to make it over the last couple years. Now you know firsthand how exhausting and time-consuming it is to brew that potion. And you were doing it for the man you love. Think how unpleasant it must have been for Sev—Professor Snape."

Tonks stared at her for a moment in horror, before regaining her easy smile, "Marian, sometimes you say the wildest things. I'll notify the old bat o'the dungeons, but don't demand the impossible. Sirius would disown me if he heard I had licked the grease-ball's boots."

Marian was annoyed by her friend's attitude towards Snape. She was feeling more and more protective of him these days, and Tonk's callous words were really getting her hackles up. As she turned to leave, suddenly disinterested in sorting through Tonks' unconventional wardrobe, she tried one last time to make her friend see reason, stating quietly, "You're all wrong about him, you know. He's a far better man than you think, and one day you're going to be thoroughly ashamed of yourself when you recall how you've treated him."

Tonks waved her hand dismissively and responded cheerily, "Don't talk crazy, Marian….Marian?"

But her friend had finally had enough and headed home, stopping at the post office to dash off a short missive on her way. The next morning, as she exited the floo in her British house and opened the front door, she found a note lying on her doorstep. The owl that had delivered it must have waited for entrance and finally given up. The message was very brief, and to the point.

_Thank you. –SS_

But those two words followed by _his_ initials thrilled her more than a pile of poems would have done. And she began to wonder exactly what sort of influence this mysterious, mercurial wizard had over her.

Dumbledore called no more meetings for the next few weeks, and so Marian had few responsibilities besides those she created for herself. But she was hardly an easy taskmaster. She generally popped in and out of St. Mungo's several times a week, and one night as she rode the elevator down from the hospital's library to the cafeteria, the doors opened and she found herself face-to-face with a distraught Molly Weasley. The normally coolly capable witch shook with sobs, uncaring of the uneasy glances she was receiving from the strangers in the lift with her.

"What's wrong?" Marian whispered, terror suddenly gripping her heart.

Molly was trembling too much to be able to push the button, so Marian pressed it for her. "Arthur! He was attacked-a snake! I don't know what's going to happen," Molly whispered through her tears.

"Come on," Marian took her by the arm and led her to the nurse's station. One look at Marian's badge and the nurse on duty gave out the room number. "Molly, they're very good here. And Arthur is very strong. Everything is going to be okay. You go stay with him, and tell me what I can do to help. Would you like me to send you some clothes?"

"N—no. I always carry some things with me," Molly said tremulously, before she got a hopeful look and her eye and said, "You're some kind of expert, aren't you? Can you help work on his case?"

"No, Molly. I'm sorry. I'm a curse-breaker. I work with spells, not magical creatures. Besides, they'll have the best researchers in the field working on him because they don't get a lot of snake bites. This is going to end well. You've got to believe me," Marian replied earnestly, awkwardly rubbing circles on her friend's back as they stood poised outside Arthur's door.

Molly clasped the knob and seemed to gather her strength around her like a cloak. She turned to Marian one last time and said, "Then would you keep an eye on my children? They're at Grimmauld Place and I'm not sure that Sirius will provide a lot of oversight. Besides, they love you, and I don't want them to be scared and unhappy—especially at Christmas."

For a moment, Molly looked as if she would dissolve in tears again, but mastered herself, gave Marian a heart-breaking rendition of a smile, and was swallowed up by the hospital room. On her way past the nurses' station, Marian had the wild idea to ask to see Arthur's chart, certain that she would be refused. To her surprise, the witch handed it over immediately, and Marian realized for the first time the sway that her 'Specialist' badge held at St. Mungo's. Once she had glanced over it and returned it to the nurse, Marian walked purposefully towards the elevator.

Thirty minutes later, Marian found herself knocking on the decayed entrance of Number 12, Grimmauld Place with Ms. Bear in her arms. She was frightened at the thought of carrying her puppy into a place full of dark magical booby traps, so she cast a variety on the sticking charm that would prevent the dog from going more than six feet away from her for the duration of their visit.

A very pale, very young-looking Weasley twin opened the door, and ushered her in silently. She quickly found herself in the living room, surrounded by frightened red-headed children, one bespectacled dark-haired child, an anxious-eyed Hermione, and a very agitated Sirius and Remus.

"I've just come from the hospital," she said quietly, inwardly shuddering at the feverish intensity with which they regarded her after this comment, "I was there when your mother arrived, and I've seen your father's chart."

"And…and what do you think?" Harry asked anxiously.

Remus instinctively made a sign of caution to her. Obviously, he didn't want her to give the children false hope. But Marian ignored him and said, "I think he's going to make a full recovery. He has a series of puncture wounds in his chest where the snake struck him three times before it retreated. Thankfully, it missed all of his arteries and vital organs. It was an enormous serpent, apparently, and the power of its strikes broke a few ribs, but those are easily mended. He lost a lot of blood, but not enough to cause any long-term damage. Apparently, he was found almost immediately after it happened, which is really odd. Because snake bites are pretty rare in the Magical Creature Ward, he has several top researchers looking at his case—including two that are world famous."

"If he just has a few broken ribs, why would he have famous Mediwizards looking at his case?" Ron asked suspiciously.

"I was coming to that," Marian responded quietly, "The snake was venomous—apparently, its bite prevents the blood from clotting and the wound continues to ooze blood. Until the healers develop a serum to counteract this, he will be unable to fully mend."

"Could he still die?" Ginny asked in a frightened voice.

"No," Marian said forcefully, "he is past the danger. Trust me, in a week or two he will be out of St. Mungo's and as good as new. The venom is a problem for the mediwizards, but not a difficult one. As far as the venom of a magical snake goes, this is rather tame—it only has one function, to prevent the blood from coagulating, rather than many, like that of the scitalis and the sanguinasp—which both have antidotes. The only reason that there isn't already an antidote is that apparently this breed is rare—a sort of hothouse flower of the snake world." A marvelous change had come over the group while she was speaking. Color was restored to the children's cheeks, and they seemed to have breathed a collective sigh of relief. "By the way," Marian asked curiously, "What are you guys all doing here? Your dad was only attacked about an hour ago. I would have thought that it would have taken a lot longer for word to get to the school and even longer for Dumbledore to convince that monster from the Ministry to release you before the official start of the holidays."

Suddenly, everyone was talking at once, but the others gradually quieted down and allowed Harry to tell her about his vision, and about how Dumbledore had hustled them all out of the school right under Umbridge's nose. Marian smiled a Severus-worthy smirk at that. She happened to glance down and noticed that Ginny Weasley had picked up Ms. Bear sometime during the conversation and was hugging her to her chest, petting her almost compulsively. All at once Marian's heart overflowed with pity for these children.

"I meant what I said about your dad," she said earnestly, "And I'm going to go check at the hospital a couple of times every day to see what progress has been made and how he's doing. I'll come and tell you everything I find; I promise."

"Marian, would you like to stay here?" Sirius asked graciously, "After all, everyone else is going to be here and we have more than enough room. I'm sure that we'll all be a lot happier if you stay. The puppy is welcome too, of course. I have a soft spot for all my canine brothers and sisters," he said with a wink.

When everyone else nodded and seemed to perk up, Marian assented graciously.

"There's an extra bed in my room," Ginny said hesitantly, "Hermione usually sleeps in it, but she likes to study at night so she got her own room."

"Perfect," Marian smiled, "I think Ms. Bear would be pretty angry at me if I tried to wrest her away from you anyway."

The next morning, Marian and Harry made breakfast together—pancakes the Muggle way, and had a rather good time doing it, even though Harry still seemed rather shaken after his vision. After they all ate together, Marian entrusted Ms. Bear to Ginny's keeping and transferred the Sticking Charm to her. Then, true to her word, she headed to the hospital. She went every morning and evening for a few minutes to glance over his chart and check in with the healers. She brought Molly meals and news and had good reports to give everyone when she got back to Grimmauld Place.

Christmas was swiftly approaching, and so she took Fred and George and Ms. Bear with her to acquire a fir tree for the living room. She tried to take a few children at a time on outings—it was maddening to stay cooped up in that dark, forbidding house all the time, but Sirius would get in a terrible snit if she tried to take everybody, and would feel even more left out and moody than usual.

Considering the anxiety everyone felt for Arthur, there was still a fair amount of happiness at Grimmauld Place over the holidays. Marian encouraged the twins to set an example of good cheer for the other children, and they proved themselves more than up to the challenge. Every evening they would do some sort of Christmas-related activity. She suggested making popcorn chains for the tree, and was astounded when none but Harry had ever heard of popcorn. So she ended up making a large pot of it on the stove, to the excitement of Ron, who couldn't quite believe that the hard little pellets could turn into the tasty fluffy balls. He felt certain that magic was involved somewhere, but couldn't discover where, as he had been with Marian a little earlier when she had bought the bag of kernels in the Muggle grocery store. She drizzled butter over it and salted it liberally, and the group sat around laughing and eating popcorn and Ginny's homemade fudge late into the evening.

Marian had a difficult time getting them to make the chains though. Surprisingly, it was Sirius that seemed the least reluctant to do this task. He worked with a will and before long had a monstrous chain of popcorn. At first, they were afraid that Ms. Bear would nibble on the long coils of popcorn, because she was eying them interestedly. But once she had taken a good sniff and realized that these pieces had no butter, she settled down next to Marian for a nap.

As Marian's reports on Arthur improved—apparently the Mediwizards were very close to a breakthrough—the children seemed much more willing to get into the Christmas spirit. They hung tinsel and garlands and sprigs of holly, and lit up the dark corners with poinsettias. With the help of Fred and George, she managed to get several ropes of the Muggle twinkly lights to come on without electricity, and liberally draped them over doorways and wrapped them around the tree. Everyone seemed thrilled with their work. When Remus showed up on Christmas Eve, he could hardly believe his eyes. The menacing house was transformed with color and merriment. Even Sirius spent less and less time upstairs sulking with his proscribed hippogriff Buckbeak. In fact, Sirius hardly let Marian out of his sight. He was always the most eager to help, no matter how unpleasant the task, and Marian felt slightly bothered by how close he stood to her at times, but until he made some kind of declaration, she felt no need to set him straight. She liked the status quo—things were friendly and cheerful. She didn't want tension, although sometimes when he looked at her she could feel it rolling off him in waves.

Christmas Day was very happy. Everyone had a few presents waiting for them under the tree—they liked this idea better than receiving their gifts at the foot of their beds. Sirius gave Marian a massy gold bracelet that she was sure was a Black family heirloom. Uncomfortable, she tried to refuse the gift and claimed it was far too much, but he wouldn't take no for an answer. Ginny and Harry watched this exchange with slightly troubled looks.

Later, Remus arrived to take everybody to the hospital, and the children seemed much happier when they returned, although Ron told her a story about how Arthur had submitted to having his wound stitched the Muggle way and asked her accusingly if she had known about it. She laughed and said, "Well, that certainly sounds like Arthur. I can understand that he wouldn't want to just lie there while healers quibbled over a solution. But honestly…who approved _that_? It's effective on Muggle gashes, but on a magical creature bite—honestly!"

Remus and Tonks dropped by on Christmas evening, and said that Dumbledore planned to call the Order together for Boxing Day, but that it was to be more for a celebration than an actual meeting. He felt that it would be a good thing for the Order members to get a chance to relax together, because it was becoming more and more standard for their only real social interaction to be with each other, now that no one knew who to trust.

The next day was a happy one, and Grimmauld Place had never been so full of good spirits. At least forty people were milling around in the various rooms, and Marian found herself playing the role of hostess in Molly's place. She made the punch, set out glasses and cutlery and provided all sorts of desserts and snacks—including Muggle chips and dips, which seemed to intrigue the wizards. Everyone had dressed up for the occasion, and Marian wore a dress cut from some sort of magical fabric, that seemed simple enough when she stood still, but whenever she moved at all, it glittered as if covered with thousands of tiny emeralds. It made her feel like an elven queen. She had worn Sirius' bracelet in an effort to be gracious, but didn't like the look he got in his eye as he took in the sight of her slim, jewelry-clad wrist as she poured him a glass of punch.

Marian should have known that she wouldn't be able to keep up the existing state of affairs forever. Sirius' attentions had been steadily escalating the past few days. She had been neatly deflecting his overtures, but knew he wouldn't continue to let matters stand, and that it was really only a matter of time before the storm broke over her head.

Lately, Sirius had taken an interest in the Weasley twins' budding business, and they freely made use of his advice, because he was really quite qualified as a consultant in mischief-making. He was familiar with most of their products, and they had developed several according to his specifications. One of these was a sprig of enchanted mistletoe that would trap two unrelated members of the opposite sex beneath it until they kissed—and no mere chaste kiss would do. Sirius had planned this with Marian in mind, mistaking her standoffishness for shyness. Since he had always been rich and handsome, he had always had a barrage of loose girls clinging to his coattails, desperate for his attention. There had also been those that had been just as desperate, but had played coy, and it was this sort of woman that had taught him that 'no' often means 'yes..._please_'. Sirius naively assumed that Marian was no different, but that she just wasn't as forward, and would be the sort to appreciate it if the responsibility was taken out of her hands.

And so after a few firewhiskeys, he set his plan into motion. Marian had just been having a laugh with Tonks over something funny Mad-Eye had said, and was on her way back to the kitchen, when something arrested her attention in the hallway and she turned to investigate. She thought she had seen a flash of white, but was certain she had locked Ms. Bear in her room before coming downstairs. Irritated at the thought that someone had let her out to run free among the guests, Marian hurried into the entryway to investigate, and almost collided with Sirius, who had been standing idly at the bottom of the staircase.

"Have you seen Ms. Bear?" she asked, glancing around him into the shadows.

"No. I thought you locked her in her room," he said innocently. Marian thought she detected a bit of a slur to his speech and looked askance at him.

"Well, I guess I must be seeing things. I had better be getting back to the kitchen to break out the pies—you know, Ginny is really quite the baker. We should have had her cooking for us the whole time," Marian said nervously, as Sirius suddenly seemed a lot nearer than he'd been before.

"Marian darling, I think you need to relax. You need to stop working and do something else for a change," he purred.

Irritated, Marian quirked an eyebrow and said, "I assume you have something specific that _you_ want me to do, otherwise you wouldn't be criticizing my time management skills."

"Exactly," Sirius continued boozily, oblivious to her ruffled feathers, "Look love, I am one of the many attractions Britain has to offer. Interested in expanding your horizons?" he asked, waggling his eyebrows.

Marian surveyed him coolly. Until now, he had always treated her with respect and not as a piece of meat. "_No_," she replied dismissively, unused to being propositioned and finding the experience more than a little distasteful.

"Well, that was insulting," he said sullenly. Marian looked upwards when she heard muffled laughter on the landing, and met the mischievous glances of the Weasley twins. One of them called to Sirius, "I guess it's going to be a tough sell, mate."

"Yeah, good thing he still has Plan B," teased the other. They both ran for it after dodging a hex from Sirius, who had surprisingly good aim considering his current state.

"What 'Plan B'?" Marian asked Sirius suspiciously.

He shot her an apologetic look that didn't seem quite genuine and pointed to something hanging above them. Marian looked up, saw the mistletoe, and waited for him to explain. "I'm afraid the twins have really outdone themselves this time," he sighed theatrically, "They have enchanted this mistletoe so that it won't let us move out from under it until we kiss."

"And any kind of kiss will do?" she asked dubiously.

"Not exactly. It has to be rather serious snogging. But it looks like we have no choice, so let's get to it," he replied in a sympathetic voice, although he couldn't quite suppress his triumphant grin.

"_No_," Marian said quietly.

"What do you _mean_ 'no'? We have to! We can't just stand here all night," he said in a rather panicky voice. He had never dreamed that she would refuse. The plan had seemed fool-proof.

"No," Marian reiterated, "Look Sirius, I like you. It wouldn't matter who I happened to be under the mistletoe with, my answer would still be the same. I strongly object to being magically compelled to do _anything_."

"Marian, lighten up for Merlin's sake! It's just a kiss," Sirius said exasperatedly. Neither he nor Marian noticed the dark figure that had materialized in the shadows and was currently watching their exchange with interest.

"You're right—but 'just a kiss' obviously means something different to you than it does to me. I think the kind of kiss that you're suggesting is highly intimate, and not to be taken lightly. Besides, I'll send a Patronus threatening the twins and if they're able, they will lift the spell. If not, I'm sure we can puzzle it out in no time. It's obviously some variation of one of the common Sticking Charms, and I've always been good with those," she retorted.

"You've got to be kidding me," Sirius exclaimed in an explosion of temper, running a hand through his charmingly unkempt hair, "I can see that my Azkaban lucky streak is still going strong. I've managed to find the one prudish American in the entire world. You act like I'm suggesting sex or something—but it's just a bloody kiss. I suppose you're perfectly content to stand out here all night, and don't mind how this will inconvenience me. Believe it or not, I would like to get back to my first party in _over a decade_. But I guess that your favorite part of the evening will be when everyone passes by us on the way out. Then you can revel in my embarrassment and make sure that everyone knows you think you're too good for me."

By the end of his rant, he was standing extremely close to her, and breathing firewhiskey down into her face. Marian had always been on the tall side for a woman, but had never realized by just how much Sirius towered over her. He seemed almost impossibly large now, as he hovered threateningly. Her cheeks flamed in outrage, and she tried to interrupt his drunken rant, but he cut her off with a growl and said, "I just can't believe that all this is about a trivial kiss. You're a grown woman! Even if it was _sex_ we were talking about-_if this mistletoe was demanding that we have sex_-what would be the big deal? You act like you're a bloody virgin or something."

Her eyes glinted with fury, but she said nothing, disgusted with this spoiled, bullying side of him she had never seen before. Sirius suddenly started laughing raucously, "I don't believe it! You are! This is unbelievable. My first prospective shag in thirteen years and she's a…how old are you anyway? Twenty-five? A twenty-five-year-old virgin. Let me guess," he sneered, cruel in his disappointment, "You're waiting for the _right man_ to come along…or perhaps…_marriage_."

"Both actually," she said coldly. For a moment, Marian had thought about hexing him, but she wasn't the type to lose her head and blow up in anger. She generally smiled at her enemies, and waited. Sometimes the opportunity for revenge came and sometimes it didn't. Usually, time and new information faded her desire for vengeance into something more resembling understanding and forgiveness—but not always. The angrier Marian got, the colder she grew, until her enemy was convinced he had been dropped directly into the ninth circle of hell. Although still articulate, Sirius was just intoxicated enough to be completely unmindful of her building wrath, and continued to spew invective at her.

"You could be a half-decent lay. I mean, you're not bad to look at. You're an ice princess, but…" and here he leaned over and said in a loud whisper that made Snape grip his wand in fury, "principled or not, you'll thaw as soon as you feel my hands on your body. I've been with your kind before and they're all the same—I should know; I deflowered half the virgins at Hogwarts….But I've had a long dry spell, so it'll be like a first for both of us."

Marian looked at him in shock and repulsion, "Are you mad?" she asked slowly, "I've never led you on—never been anything other than kind to you. And after what you've just said, I wouldn't touch you with a borrowed tongue! I'd like to know how, by word or deed, I've given the impression that I'm some kind of slag, that you _dare_ speak to me this way."

"I figured you'd say something like that," Sirius jeered bitterly, "You sit too primly up there on your high-horse to care about anyone else's feelings….I can see it now. You're going to be a dried up old spinster—and it's a bloody waste if you ask me."

"You know, I may very well become a 'dried up old spinster'," Marian responded in measured tones, "but there are worse things. At least celibacy requires some character—some self-control, unlike offering yourself up like an animal to every interested party. I know my own worth, and I won't settle for less than a man of honor-someone who is willing to offer me everything—all that he has and all that he is."

Snape was stunned by what he had just heard. He had nonverbally cancelled the spell binding them to each other and the mistletoe soon after he arrived on the scene, having dealt with the same products at Hogwarts over the past few weeks. He had thought about intervening further, but things had quickly become too interesting for that.

Sirius seemed a little ashamed of himself after Marian's last reply; but just as quickly as the remorse appeared on his face, it vanished, to be replaced by a grimace that was almost diabolical in its intensity, as he happened to glance in Snape's direction for the first time, and caught him watching Marian with a strange look, a mixture of curiosity and admiration and tenderness.

And then, in the blink of an eye, Sirius acted. He pulled Marian into his arms and prepared to ravish her mouth, but not before sending a gloating look in Snape's direction. Marian had no time to react, although her expression reflected her shock and outrage. But before he was able to lower his face to hers, Marian suddenly felt someone wrench him away from her and heard a loud crash as a blur of dark robes slammed Sirius up against the wall. It was Severus, and he had one hand around Sirius' throat and the other was gripping his wand so tightly that his fist looked like marble, blue veins bulging under pale, translucent skin.

Although a couple inches shorter than Sirius, Marian saw at once that Snape was much the more dangerous of the two, and that awareness had nothing to do with the fact that one was drunk and the other sober. The difference went much deeper. Although the same age, one sensed something of a boyish mindset in Sirius, while there was no hint of this in Severus. If it had ever existed, it must have been stamped out of him at a very early age. One had only to look at Snape to realize that he was not the sort of man to trifle with; he had the mien of a veteran soldier. For all his virility and experience, Sirius had the air of a boy that sees fighting as a form of play, but Marian saw only a man's seriousness in Severus, and understood that if he had to fight, it would be ugly and vicious, and possibly to the death.

Snape spoke in a deceptively quiet voice, laced with disdain, "This is the sort of behavior I would expect among the Death Eaters, but certainly not in the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. But perhaps you have decided to uphold the Black family traditions…after all."

Sirius' eyes flashed and it was difficult to tell which one of them hated the other more. Sirius had a wild look, his cheeks flushed with anger and liquor, and Snape's eyes were chips of black ice, although the tension radiating off him proved that his feelings were far from indifferent. Snape had shielded Marian with his body, and she came up behind him and gently placed her hand on the back of his arm, just above the elbow, as a gesture of support and appreciation. Marian was neither young nor foolish, and although she had realized that Sirius had been under her control until Snape had arrived, and that his appearance on the scene had quickly caused things to become unmanageable, she was far too clever to do as many women have done in her situation, inopportunely asserting their independence by protesting that they could have 'handled it on their own'. Marian had nothing to prove. If Severus wanted to take care of her, then Marian was going to let him—it was only fair, considering her behind-the-scenes efforts on his behalf.

"Snape, you're pathetic! The closest you've ever come to a woman is your mother—and she didn't like you either! So don't presume to lecture me in my own house about something that you know absolutely nothing about," Sirius choked out venomously.

Snape went completely rigid, but spoke clearly and derisively, "Yes. No doubt I wouldn't be able to grasp whatever ethical nuance you've caught hold of to make it acceptable for you to assault a guest in your home….But then, you've never really had much honor, always preferring the unequal odds. In fact, I must confess my surprise not to find Lupin here holding her arms."

Sirius grew livid, but just as he was about to reply, he happened to notice Marian's stony face and faltered.

"Sirius, I expected better of you," Marian said grimly, "We've had some good times together, and I thought we were friends. I trusted you. Considering the circumstances, I'm going to return my Christmas present, which you obviously gave me in trade, rather than as a gift. Also, I think it unwise to spend any more nights in your home….And next time you approach a lady, it wouldn't hurt to play a straight game," and she glanced meaningfully at the mistletoe. After her words, Snape released Sirius and took a step back, but he never took his other hand off his wand.

"If you weren't an intoxicated wreck, you would pay dearly for what you've done. As it stands, if you ever touch her again without her permission, you'll have a broken bone to answer for each of her disarranged hairs," Snape murmured harshly, growing quieter and colder each time he spoke.

Humiliated and clutching his returned bracelet, Sirius noticed for the first time how Marian's hand had crept possessively around Snape's bicep and spat, "You're quite the fan of Snivellus. Why don't you marry _him_? ...It's really rather perfect actually. I have no doubt that he's also a frigid virgin, but you might even be satisfied with him, since you've never experienced a man—and if you do end up with him, I suppose you never will experience one, which I imagine will suit you just fine."

Marian responded by sweeping her eyes over Sirius contemptuously and saying, "I could do worse." He stormed past them, and a moment later, they heard a door slam somewhere in the distance.

As soon as Sirius was out of sight, Snape turned to her, taking in her disheveled hair and the red finger prints around her throat from when Sirius had caught her by the back of the neck in an effort to force her face to his. "Are you alright?" he asked quietly.

"Yes, thank you," Marian said, feeling shaken by the exchange. He couldn't help but think she looked much nicer without the heavy, coarse bracelet. It wasn't her style at all. Snape thought that she ought to wear rare, delicate things—jewelry not only beautiful and unique, but rife with words and spells, hidden compartments and secret meanings. After only a short time, he knew what she liked and what suited her. He marveled that Sirius had been unable to grasp what seemed so self-evident to him.

Still trembling with fury, Marian tried to hide her vulnerability by turning slightly away from him and busying herself in an attempt to tidy her hair. He stood watching her with an indecipherable look in his eye. Out of the blue, she asked, "Would you mind holding my hair—just like that. Thank you. I didn't want to have to use my teeth to open these pins."

Snape was tremendously surprised at her request; it was not the sort of thing people usually called on him to do. But he carefully held the heavy, shining coils of hair in place; her delicate white fingers stroking his sensuously as she deftly replaced the pins. The fragrance of her hair wafted towards his sensitive nostrils, and he suddenly recalled a line from a Muggle play he had read long ago, something about the ship bearing Cleopatra, with its sails of purple which 'were so perfumed, that the winds were love-sick with them'. Snape colored at his thoughts—that he should be so affected by something as innocuous as her scent. But he found it infinitely alluring that this girl from the West should smell of delectable spices from the East. He detected patchouli, sandalwood, cardamom, amber….and then she took a step away and turned, murmuring, "Finished. Thank you—for everything."

"Would you care to return to the party?" he asked civilly.

"I suppose so, although I'm rather out of the notion. It wouldn't do to let him spoil the entire evening though," Marian said decidedly.

"Very well. I shall accompany you," Snape responded, and Marian wondered if he had happened upon them in the entrance hall because he had been leaving—but he must have only just gotten there, because she hadn't seen him before he surprised her and Sirius.

When they rejoined the group, Tonks shot her a raised eyebrow, and Marian smiled and shook her head almost imperceptibly. "So where were you off to? I had to serve the drinks while you were gone and I've broken five cups and two serving platters," Tonks laughed, her cheeks blooming with color from the punch.

"I thought I saw Ms. Bear out of the corner of my eye and had to go make sure she wasn't loose," Marian said, not wanting to spread rumors—Sirius was Tonks' cousin, after all. As far as Marian was concerned, the issue had been handled. But then she heard Severus growl, "A word, Lupin," and groaned internally. Apparently, it wasn't as settled as she thought.

A few moments later, Lupin returned to the group. He shot her a keen, thoughtful glance, but said nothing about what he and Snape had discussed. With all of the merriment in the room, it didn't take long for Marian to regain her good spirits, and soon she laughed and joked with the rest of them. But no matter where she went, her green dress and eyes sparkling like the living lights that gather on the surface of a night sea, she felt Snape's gaze upon her. Whenever she glanced over at him, he always seemed engaged in circumspect conversation or staring pensively in another direction, but she knew she wasn't mistaken—his watchful regard was almost palpable.

At one point in the conversation, Marian asked Tonks, "By the way, do you know the shelf life of Polyjuice?"

Tonks shrugged, threw her arms up comically and said, "I have no idea. I've never had the need for Polyjuice. Besides, I'm a field-woman, not a scholar!" Marian snorted with laughter, and Tonks added, "But I'll bet Hermione here knows. Remus told me she's the cleverest witch of her age."

Hermione overheard Tonks and approached, blushing at the compliment. "Will you repeat the question?" she asked.

Snape overheard, and couldn't help but feel a bit amused at her panicked expression when she realized she didn't know. Granger muttered something and ran off, and he smiled in satisfaction when he realized that she would be holed up in Black's library for the next few days, and that he wouldn't have to see her.

"Why didn't you just ask me?" he purred in her ear the moment Tonks left for a refill of punch.

"Well, I was going to, but I figured I'd check with an expert first," Marian teased, thrilled by his proximity.

"Are you aware that the _expert_ you just consulted managed to turn herself into a half-cat hybrid during her one and only experience with Polyjuice?" Snape asked, his voice washing over her like waves of gold.

"She did? ...Well, tell me your Polyjuice mishaps and we'll compare them," Marian taunted, her eyes dancing.

"I don't have any," he said drily, "But tell me, how old is your supply and where did it come from?"

Marian thought hard and answered, "I think I've had it for about seven years or so. I bought it from a private dealer in Istanbul."

"If I remember correctly, Polyjuice is a controlled substance in Turkey as well," he said sardonically, and then continued, "But yours is no good. Polyjuice is in its prime for about three years, and then every month after it degrades by a half-life. Yours would probably allow you to stay transformed for a few minutes, but would be inadequate for any real operation. You would have to consume far more than the recommended intake for it to be effective, but that's highly dangerous. Barty Crouch Jr., the Death Eater that arranged for the Dark Lord's regeneration last year, took far more Polyjuice than normal in order to retain Moody's form at Hogwarts. After he was caught and received the Dementor's Kiss, his body barely survived a month before it expired. The Mediwizards found that the Polyjuice had completely destroyed several of his organs….So tell me, what are your plans for this potion?" he asked, giving her a penetrating glance.

"I don't know yet," she answered frankly, "but I suspect that it will be useful to have around in the coming months. It's one of the potions I like to keep on hand—and I'm a terrible brewer, so I thought I would start looking for a seller."

"There's no need," he replied with quiet authority, "Since it's a regulated substance, it is very difficult to find it properly prepared on the black market. I shall brew it for you."

Taken aback, Marian said, "Oh no, no! You're overextended as it is. I don't want you wasting your time catering to my caprices. Besides," she joked, "I couldn't have you breaking Hogwarts Ordinance 1,275 just for me."

"That wretched Ministry hag has added another thousand this week, so I would actually be breaking Hogwarts Ordinance 2, 275," his eyes glittered as he deadpanned.

He dropped his voice and added, "Don't bother arguing. Let me do something for you."

And then Dumbledore beckoned to Snape from across the room, and he glided away. Tonks sidled up to her a moment later and said, "Did I just catch you_ flirting_ with the Dungeon Bat?"

"We weren't flirting—and don't call him that!" Marian answered hotly.

"Marian, please! He was murmuring in your ear and almost _smiling_….And I'm pretty sure I saw you shiver when he leaned down to tell you something. If it was anyone other than Snape, I would say that you guys were being almost _playful_. For Merlin's sake, I actually heard him make a joke. This is completely blowing my mind!" Tonks exclaimed in a loud drunken whisper. Marian just rolled her eyes and changed the subject, and soon the two found themselves surrounded by most of the single men in the room, as Tonks morphed into different Muggle film stars. Snape seemed to know the moment Marian decided she was ready to leave, and materialized at her side.

"Are you Flooing?" he asked quietly.

"I thought I might Apparate," she responded, sending him a fleeting look from under her lashes.

"Then I will wait at the bottom of the stairs while you collect your things," he replied decisively.

Marian wanted to tell him that it wasn't necessary, but realized that she would just be wasting her breath. He watched from the ground floor as she went into her room upstairs and packed and shrank her things. She emerged a few moments later with a happily squirming puppy in her arms. "I almost wonder if it's worth the bother of going home tonight. I have to come back tomorrow anyway," she said dully, "I promised Molly I would look after the kids."

Severus opened his mouth, no doubt to say something about how she ought not to come back at all except to Order meetings, but Marian forestalled him by asking in lower, softer tones, "So when will I see you again?"

He blinked and said, "That I cannot answer. I had business to discuss with Black tonight, but he was…indisposed, so now I'll be forced to return and waste even more of my time."

"That's a shame," Marian replied, "I can hardly imagine any conversation between the two of you going well, especially after tonight. Can you not just write him a letter?"

Snape cast a Muffliato, a spell of his own that Marian had really begun to appreciate, and said, "Unfortunately, Black is Potter's godfather, and as Dumbledore wishes me to teach Potter Occlumency next term, I will have to obtain Black's consent. It's really just a formality; if he refuses me, he'll have to deal with Dumbledore. He'll give in in the end-although I really wish he wouldn't-but I'm sure he'll feel it incumbent upon him to bluster and throw his weight around a bit first."

"Ah—is this because of Harry's visions?" she questioned.

"Dumbledore believes that he has some sort of mind-link with the Dark Lord because of the rebounded Killing Curse. Potter has been accidentally accessing the Dark Lord's thoughts, but after this major intrusion involving Arthur Weasley and the snake, it's very possible that the Dark Lord is aware of their connection. And if he is, he will seek to use it to his advantage," Snape told her grimly.

"But if he can see into Harry's head, then he will be able to see that you're teaching him Occlumency. He'll know all about the Order. Severus, he'll blow your cover!" Marian exclaimed in concern.

"I'll have to inform the Dark Lord that Dumbledore has charged me with this task, and pretend that I'm going to make Potter's mind even more vulnerable to him….But yes, it's going to require rather delicate footwork," Snape replied diffidently.

Marian began to pace, "I don't like it. Please be very careful around Harry. Watch what you say to him!"

"Believe me, I need no warning," he said ironically.

In an effort to change the subject, and because she didn't want to leave him just yet, Marian blurted out with a grin, "Oh, I just remembered. I'm going to get to see you in your natural habitat in a few weeks."

He stilled and looked at her questioningly.

"Dumbledore has invited me to Hogwarts as a contractor. Apparently, that nightmare from the Ministry thinks it was her idea to call me in. I've been commissioned to look at 'possible dark objects' culled from the students. I find it a little ironic, considering that she is the school's Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher and supposed expert. I guess she's not as confident in her abilities as she pretends—and I'm sure she doesn't trust any of the rest of the staff. She probably thinks you're all in Dumbledore's private army," she smirked.

"Well, she's way off there. Only half of us are," Snape replied, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as Marian laughed aloud, throwing back her head and inadvertently exposing her tantalizing white throat.

"I wish you weren't coming to Hogwarts," Snape said seriously a moment later, "It may very well be the epicenter of this war. Many of the parents are Death Eaters and the children will report to them concerning your presence at the school. In the eyes of many, even setting foot in Hogwarts places you firmly in Dumbledore's camp. I'm just thankful that you're going to be there under Ministry orders. That way you'll preserve at least a shred of your apparent neutrality."

"I hadn't thought of it that way," she said slowly, and a dreamy look came into her aquamarine eyes, "but I _have_ been longing to see Hogwarts. I've read books about it and seen pictures, but there's no substitute for the real thing. There aren't any schools like it in the United States."

"There are no other schools like it anywhere," he replied matter-of-factly, opening the front door for her to pass through ahead of him. Once they both stood outside, Marian shivered with the cold and turned to look at him one last time. His pale face was nearly all that was visible of him, and his fathomless eyes shone out at her for a moment like dying stars. All of a sudden, Marian felt an almost desperate desire to keep him close, to keep him safe.

And it was in that moment that she realized that what she felt for him was more than admiration, or attraction, or even fascination. She knew exactly what it was, but didn't dare give it a name. It was too holy, too important. In her heart of hearts, she knew very well why she had been so disgusted and disturbed when Sirius had tried to kiss her, and it had little to do with resenting the coercion and _everything_ to do with the man in front of her.

She felt like a fool, knowing that his feelings would never match hers and that it would only endanger him if they did. Her task to protect Severus Snape had just become a lot harder. And so she murmured goodnight and Apparated away in despair.


	9. Chapter 9

Author's Note: I apologize if I place certain events out of sequence (For instance, later on I will have Draco Malfoy attempt to kill Dumbledore with the poisoned mead _before_ he gives the cursed necklace a try. I'm attempting to stay as close to canon as possible, but sometimes it's necessary to alter small things to suit my own purposes...or because I forgot the correct progression, which is more than likely to happen, as I only read the Harry Potter books once.

Chapter 9: Cures and Palliatives

The next day, Marian rose from her rather sleepless night with a new resolution. She refused to allow herself to become distracted by feelings and starry-eyed fantasies and would work harder than ever to develop schemes to keep him safe. If her love was real and worth anything, then she would prove it by sacrificing to put him first-not by self-serving romantic overtures.

Deciding to put off her return to Grimmauld Place for as long as possible, feeling too tired to face the inevitable confrontation with Sirius, Marian decided to run by the hospital and see how Arthur Weasley was faring. The Mediwizards had tried a new treatment yesterday, and by today they ought to know if it had worked. When she reached the nurses' station, she glanced over at Arthur's hospital room and noticed that the door was open and it was being cleaned. "Has 227 been discharged then?" Marian asked the girl at the desk, who had been surreptitiously reading Witch Weekly until she had approached.

"Oh, the snakebite guy? That's right. Healer Smethwyck got him to stop bleeding sometime yesterday, so they went ahead and let him go home this morning," she answered, holding her gum still in her mouth the moment she caught sight of Marian's badge.

"Do you know where I can find Smethwyck?" she asked.

"I think he's in the records room," the girl replied hesitatingly.

"Thank you," Marian responded pleasantly. Smethwyck had been one of the healers she had talked with frequently about Arthur Weasley, and he had been flattered by the pretty young witch's interest in one of his cases. When she found Healer Smethwyck, he was busily storing vials of blood and potions in a large cabinet marked with an official-looking tag embossed with a serial number.

"I think congratulations are in order," Marian said cheerily, "I hear you cracked the snakebite case."

"That's right," he said, a huge grin spreading across his pock-marked face, "I'm going to miss working on it, in a way. It was a rather interesting Potions project. And now all that's left is the paperwork. The guy bled so much that I took about a million samples from him, and now I'm going to have to throw all but one away."

"How long can they be preserved?" she asked curiously.

"Well, a few years ago this Russian chap developed a stasis charm that works indefinitely for anything containing blood, so this protects most of our samples and antidotes," he answered, busily cataloguing something.

Marian knew she would have to be careful about what she said next, but an idea had formed in her mind and she knew she had to give it a shot, "I know this is a strange request, but I was wondering if I might take a sample of Arthur Weasley's blood, as well as a sample of your cure," she asked, causing his head to snap up in surprise.

"Well, with your clearance, of course you can take them. You'll just have to sign for them," he answered with a puzzled expression.

"I know this isn't my area," Marian said conversationally, while signing a requisition form as illegibly as possible. She attempted to mask her surprise at the ease with which he had agreed, and lied, "but the Weasleys are dear friends of mine and I just want to make sure that if anything happened to the supplies in this room, there would still be a sample of your remarkable potion."

He knit his brow and said, "Well, the cure should be permanent. I can't imagine him having a relapse."

"Neither can I," she exclaimed soothingly, "but I think a second copy would give Molly—his wife—peace of mind."

Ruffled feathers successfully smoothed, Smethwyck responded genially, "Oh, of course…you're acting at the wife's request. Well, I know how that is, the wives of the patients worry more than the patients themselves a hundred times over….I suppose I'll see you around, Marian. Come visit me the next time you're on the floor."

"Will do," she nodded at him, and left the hospital with the two impervious vials secured in an inner pocket, smiling buoyantly at everyone she passed. Marian believed strongly in being prepared, and if You-Know-Who's snake threatened to cause any more trouble, Marian would be ready. She decided that she was up to facing Sirius Black today after all.

When she reached Grimmauld Place, the door was answered by a smiling Ginny Weasley. Marian felt rather relieved that she didn't have to immediately confront Sirius.

"Dad's back—can you believe it?" Ginny's laughter had a genuine, childlike ring to it, and it brought an involuntary smile to Marian's face.

"I know. I just heard, and came right over," she answered brightly.

"I just wish we didn't have to go back to school tomorrow. I want to be with my family, and not have to deal with that cow Umbridge," Ginny continued conversationally.

Marian nodded in sympathy and suddenly Ginny added, "Oh! I almost forgot. You just missed the most frightful row between Sirius and Snape. I've never seen either of them so angry. They even had their wands out and I thought they were going to hex each other, but they stopped when all of us came in. Snape blew out of the house so fast I thought he would take the wallpaper off with him. I wish they would stop going after each other all the time. It's really uncomfortable for the rest of us."

Marian's heart sank, "That couldn't have made for the most pleasant homecoming for your dad," she said sympathetically.

"Oh, he's used to arguments since he has so many kids. He's probably already forgotten about it," Ginny said airily, leading her into the living room and announcing, "Look who it is everybody!"

For the rest of the day, Marian stuck close to the others, helping Molly serve meals and clean up, and avoiding Sirius' glances. It seemed that he had gotten hold of a rather potent hang-over relief potion, and seemed as cheerful and charming as ever. He kept trying to catch her eye, to no avail, but finally managed to get her alone while she magicked the dishes dry.

"Marian, did something happen between us last night? The whole night is a blur. I remember drinking a lot of firewhiskey, and then I think I ran into you, but I can't recall anything else," he told her with his usual charisma.

"Lucky you. Unfortunately for me, I remember every sordid detail," Marian said in clipped tones, refusing to look at him.

"Look Marian, I woke up this morning passed out in the library with the bracelet I gave you lying next to me on the floor. And then today Snape came by and started making all kinds of insinuations. So what happened? Did we-? You know..." he hinted.

The silverware Marian had been levitating dropped with a clatter onto the countertop.

"_No_. We...Did..._Not_. I'll tell you exactly what happened," she exclaimed, her temper finally exploding, although she kept her voice to a furious hiss. "Last night, you tried to magically force me to kiss you with enchanted mistletoe. I have a _big_ problem with any kind of compulsion, and when I suggested that we were clever enough to disarm the mistletoe without eating each other's faces off, you said horrible things to me."

"Marian, I'm sure I was disappointed, but even drunk, I would never be cruel to you!" Sirius said in a shocked voice.

"You said I would become a 'dried-up old spinster' and that you only wanted me because you had had a long dry spell," she said icily, and Sirius flinched.

Marian continued, "You ridiculed my morals and my habits and tried to get me to change my mind and sleep with you by announcing that you knew how to handle a prude like me, because, when you were a student, you had 'deflowered half the girls at Hogwarts'—which, let me tell you, was _such_ a turn-on," she added sarcastically.

"But I think the best part of all was when you decided that you didn't care that I objected, and gripped me around the back of the neck—which is still very tender, by the way-and attempted to force me into a kiss. Luckily, Professor Snape stopped you, because I didn't see it coming in time to react. After the two of you yelled at each other for a while—and you still seemed _quite_ articulate for someone that was supposedly so drunk, I gave you back your bracelet and you stormed off. I didn't see you for the rest of the evening. You didn't return to the party while I was still there, but you could have emerged later for all I know, since I returned to my own home last night," she finished, her words throbbing with hostility.

Marian looked up defiantly at Sirius as she ended her tirade, fully expecting Round Two of their argument from the night before, and was shocked to see that he looked…devastated, was the only word for it. There wasn't even a trace of fight in his eyes, and his merriment had vanished as well. In fact, his expression held nothing but despair, and perhaps shame.

"No," he whispered hoarsely, "No. I couldn't have. I wouldn't treat you like that. Tell me that you're joking! Because I wouldn't ever do that—not to you."

He seemed to be pleading with her by the end, and reverently stretched his hand out towards her face. When she flinched away from him, he dropped it and took a step backwards, looking as if she had slapped him. "Marian, I'm sorry. I just don't understand. My whole life, I've always wanted to play the hero, but I keep finding myself cast as the villain."

"If I've cast you as a villain, it's only because you auditioned for the part," Marian responded, although with slightly less rancor than before.

"Marian, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry! Can we get past this? Because I was really very drunk. I never would have dreamed of doing it sober," he said earnestly.

"_In vino veritas_," Marian said lightly, returning to the dishes.

"Perhaps in _wine_, but this is _firewhiskey_ we're talking about! Besides, it was the first time I indulged in over thirteen years. I clearly overestimated myself, but I promise it won't happen again. Tell me I'm forgiven!" he said contritely, with a winning smile.

"Sirius, I forgive you. But I trusted you, and you betrayed me. I'm afraid it will be a long time before I'm able to forget the things you revealed about yourself last night," Marian said severely, causing Sirius' smile to falter. But she immediately followed up her comment with a watery, conciliatory smile and abbreviated the conversation with, "You're really a mean drunk—just so long as you know that."

And after this, Marian and Sirius were almost back to normal. It didn't take Sirius long to lose his subdued demeanor and pick up his flirtation where he had left off, and if Marian seemed rather more distant than she had been, everyone—except Remus—assumed that it was because her workload had suddenly doubled (mysteriously) after the holidays.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10: The High Inquisitor

Marian's appointment at Hogwarts was slated for the first of February, but before it arrived, she received some rather dreadful news. One morning she opened the _Daily Prophet_ and saw what the Order had feared for quite some time. There had been a mass break out from Azkaban. All of the former Death Eaters, including many of Voldemort's staunchest supporters, had escaped to rejoin their master. Marian trembled at what this might mean for Severus. He would have to face the suspicions of these dyed-in-the-wool Death Eaters and prove himself all over again. Marian was certain that he was clever enough to do this, but worried that the others would be bitter and envious enough to cook up a plot against him, since he was far too adroit to slip up and incriminate himself.

She heard that an Order meeting had been called, but only for a select few—mostly Aurors, who were concerned with tracking the Death Eaters and monitoring the Dementors, which had all defected to the Dark Lord. The rest of the Order had been told to continue on as normal and wait for instructions.

After two weeks had passed and Marian had heard nothing at all about Severus Snape and how he was faring, she practically ran across the grounds to Hogwarts on the morning Dumbledore was expecting her. She arrived at the school early, and marveled at the gleaming spires on the stone turrets, reflecting the morning sun off the lake.

When she entered the castle, it was all the outside had promised and more. Everything about it seemed infused with old magic, and it was full of curious and wonderful artifacts, from living suits of armor to magical hourglasses filled with precious stones, which seemed to reflect the scores of the four different groups of students.

Even though no one had come to meet her, every door had opened easily at her touch, and she had followed the murmur of conversation to the Great Hall, which was filled with dining students. Thrown a little off-balance at having stumbled into their midst, Marian cast her eyes up to the head table, where she could clearly see Professor Dumbledore and…Professor Snape. He looked the same as ever he had, and suddenly all of her fears were laid aside, and she began to stride purposefully towards the front of the room, never wavering, and holding her head like a queen. He made no sign that he recognized her, but she noticed the eyes of a plump witch all in pink, at Dumbledore's right, narrow at her approach. Marian instinctively recognized that this woman was no scholar, and that she must therefore be the Ministry appointee. Suddenly, she felt a bit reckless and decided that she was going to have some fun today at this dreadful woman's expense. She would just have to be clever about how she went about it.

"If you are the curse-breaker contacted by the Ministry, I'm afraid you're rather early," the witch said, in sugary tones that in no way masked her disapproval at Marian's breach of protocol.

Marian wasn't very good with accents, but she could achieve one or two, and when she opened her mouth, she spoke with the exaggerated, hoity-toity intonation of a Southern belle in a Muggle movie, "Oh, ma dear,_ sweet_ Dolores," she crooned, internally grinning when she detected Severus' soft snort of surprise.

"Ah have wanted tah meet you foh evah so long. Mah relatives in the American Ministry speak ve-ry hahly of you," Marian said, pronouncing all of her 'I's' as 'ah's' and her 'e's' as long 'a's', and leaving 'r's' off the ends of words right and left.

"And who are they?" Umbridge asked, with a trace of suspicion.

Marian knew several names in the American Ministry, and used them as she began to lie outrageously, "The Blounts, Heyworths, Castlebachs…and my Pee-Paw and cousins Bubba and Robert Earl are all Austins—although they're in the foreign service, you know."

"Oh my! Well, you _are_ well-connected. Please, come and have some breakfast with us," she said eagerly.

Marian gracefully took the seat that was conspicuously open at Umbridge's right, and poured herself a cup of coffee, glancing at Snape from under her lashes. He was looking at her with a bemused expression, and Marian suddenly decided to up the ante in an effort to afford him some enjoyment.

"We do so admire the efficiency of the British Ministry in the United States. No one can best the United Kingdom when it comes to keeping order, although the weather here probably helps keep people indoors and out of mischief. I'm just as cold here as a fat well-digger's behind in Montana in the winter….But I imagine all of the teachers are just plum thrilled to have you here, keepin' everythin' runnin' smoothly," she said, continuing her ridiculous act. She heard the other teachers grumble and snicker in turn all the way down the table. Snape was watching her carefully.

"Well my dear, one does what one can. Although, I believe there are those here that don't support the Ministry's presence in the school," Umbridge said, preening under the flattery.

Marian let out a gasp of mock outrage and exclaimed, "Oh! Say it isn't so!"

"Oh, but sadly it is! I've been forced to implement several changes during my tenure here, cutting out some of the _dead wood_—I'm sure that's a term you're familiar with, my dear," she added condescendingly.

"I've also had to make a few staffing changes, with more to come, I'm afraid," Umbridge said with a put-upon sigh, seemingly oblivious to the hate-filled glances she was receiving, and continued, "I suppose I should introduce you to some of the teachers, since they are here to assist us in our effort to rid the school of anything…questionable. You know Professor Dumbledore, of course. And this is Professor Grubbly-Plank, who has taken over some of the Care of Magical Creatures classes, and will soon be replacing the regular teacher completely. He's a half-giant—can you believe it?" Umbridge said sotto voce, although no one at the table missed what she'd said.

The mutinous glances of the other teachers seemed to bounce off her, and she continued, "Grubbly-Plank has been doing a satisfactory job so far, but I will continue to keep an eye on her. The empty seat next to you belongs to Trelawney, the professor of Divination, who, I'm sorry to say, has not performed well _at all_ in my inspections, and I'm afraid may soon leave us….And down on the end is Professor Snape, the Potions teacher, who has applied for the Defense Against the Dark Arts position on several separate occasions, and has been _inexplicably_ turned down each time. That is rather irregular, don't you think?" she asked, immensely enjoying torturing the staff.

Snape's lips were set, and his knuckles on the hand holding his coffee cup were white with tension. Filled with loathing for the sadistic woman next to her, Marian decided to beat her at her own game, and affecting a hearty laugh, said, "_Irregular_? Ha ha ha! Why, Professor Snape is _thah best_—and I mean _thah best_ there is at Potions, but _anyone_ can fill the Defense slot. I heard your last DADA teacher was as crazy as a betsy-bug and a criminal to boot."

Umbridge flushed an ugly shade of plum, but Marian took a page out of Umbridge's own playbook and pretended to be completely insensible to her fury, continuing cheerily, "Professor Snape is a Potions Master of world-renown. In America, his name represents British excellence in academia. In fact, his publication, _An Exact Art: The Use of Potions in Curse-Breaking_, is still man-dat-ory reading in all our schools, even being ten years old. But _no wonder_ this is all so strange and confusing to you. You're not a scholar! You are a—_bureaucrat_-that is the word we use in America."

At this remark, someone dropped a spoon with a clatter, and Umbridge, choking with fury said, "I beg your pardon!"

Marian went in for the kill. Affecting the friendliest, most obtuse manner she could muster, she said, "Now darlin', I didn't mean to offend you. Perhaps that word has different con-no-tations over here than it does in America. Let me try again—_Quill pusher_?"

The other teachers began snorting with suppressed laughter. Umbridge had a constipated look on her toad-like face, as if she was trying to puzzle out whether she was being deliberately insulted or was merely dealing with a clueless and annoying, albeit well-connected, foreigner.

Marian said, "No? Still not right? How about _Desk Jockey_? Am I getting warmer?"

From the looks on the staff's faces, it was as if Christmas had come early, and the twinkling of Dumbledore's eyes would have rivaled those of Santa Claus himself.

"_Red tape—measurer_?" Marian ventured.

When Umbridge finally pushed back her chair in humiliation and fury, Marian called, "Oh come on now, sugar. There's nothin' wrong with not bein' smart enough to be a real professor. Don't let your little pink self get all riled up. You look so cute in that little pink outfit—doesn't she look cute? Just like a pink little newborn baby's bottom….Now come on back. Plop on down into your seat. I didn't mean to be ugly. You know how ignorant us foreigners are. It seems that we have what I like to call a 'cultural difference of opinion'."

Umbridge grunted something noncommittally and remained silent for the last few minutes of the meal, while Marian leaned obnoxiously around her and chatted loudly with Dumbledore, who seemed to be getting into the spirit of the game.

"So Doo-lor-ess, where did you want me to get started?" Marian asked, turning back to her once more.

"Professor Dumbledore will supervise your efforts and make a report of your findings to me. I'm really very busy, so if you'll excuse me…" And Umbridge rose from her seat and waddled out of the Great Hall as fast as her thick, stocking-clad legs would carry her.

As she watched Umbridge's hasty retreat, a lazy, satisfied smirk touched Marian's full lips. Severus gazed at Marian with the fascination of a little boy that has been keeping a very interesting bug as a pet, and one day discovers that the bug can also fly.

Beaming at her, Dumbledore said, "Come with me, my dear. We had better get started. I'm sure there are dozens of dangerous Dung Bombs and Ton-Tongue Toffees that will require the expertise of a veteran curse-breaker."

She followed him down a long corridor filled with paintings, whose characters vied with Dumbledore for her conversation, and finally into a classroom that had been filled with two hundred or so confiscated belongings. Most were products created by the Weasley twins. Marian didn't know whether to laugh or groan at the prospect of examining this mountain of harmless joke items for 'Dark Magic'.

But to her surprise, she actually spent a rather enjoyable day in that classroom playing with all of the different specimens. She had a whole new respect for the Weasley twins, who she had been a little sore at ever since the incident with the charmed mistletoe, if truth be told.

After her time with the toys, Marian quickly became caught up in writing her findings in a hilarious manner. Since she had not found a single item with even a glimmering of Dark Magic, she made a list and stamped 'code red' beside all of the things that caused diarrhea or constipation. Then she enumerated her discoveries and judgments in ridiculous detail, effectively creating a parody of one of her usual reports. She decided to throw Umbridge a bone by writing on the cover sheet that the Ministry must be congratulated that not even one Dark Magical artifact had been found among the students during the sweep. She hoped that that line would satisfy her, though she would certainly be disappointed at having no owners of cursed objects to punish.

Marian did not return to the Great Hall for lunch, although she had been looking forward to the thought of having more fun at Umbridge's expense. But thirty minutes before mealtime, a house elf had brought her a tray, saying that the Hogwarts High Inquisitor knew that an expert like her would be too wrapped up in her work to want to break for a meal in the Great Hall. Marian smirked at that. _Touché_, she thought.

That evening, about five o'clock, Marian finished up and brought the completed report to Professor Dumbledore, who glanced through and appeared highly entertained. He promised to give it the attention it deserved that night after dinner.

As she walked through the corridors on her way from Dumbledore's tower to the main entrance of the school, she was pleased but hardly surprised when Professor Snape suddenly materialized out of the shadows and began walking beside her, a troubled expression on his face.

"That was quite the performance earlier….But it's not wise to toy with wild beasts. She could prove very dangerous to you," he murmured, easily keeping pace with her.

"Oh, you know what they say- 'it is a profitable thing, if one is wise, to seem foolish'," she said laughingly.

Severus reached out and gently tugged her sleeve, leading her into an unused classroom and casting a Muffliato. Marian tilted her head up at him and asked, "So I take it you were not amused."

Finally relenting, his lips spread into a slow smirk and his eyes glittered with pleasure. He said, "I will cherish the memory of that scene as long as I live. But why on earth did you do it?"

Marian grinned like the python that had just eaten the whole deer, and said, "Well, there was this one world-famous professor there that I wanted to impress…."

He rolled his eyes in fond exasperation and said, "You didn't have to lay it on quite so thick where I was concerned. Did you _want_ to blow your cover?"

Suddenly serious, Marian looked up at the sallow-skinned man, imposing in his long black school robes, and said earnestly, " 'It is a fool's prerogative to utter truths that no one else will speak.'—Wow, I seem to have a quote for every occasion today….But I didn't make up any of the things I said about you. You may not realize this, because I doubt you've had the luxury of leaving the country in a while, but your name _does_ command immense respect in the academic community. American schools really_ do_ use your text as part of their advanced curriculum—I can't think how they've managed this without seeking your permission. Does Hogwarts have the rights to all your work?"

He nodded, face inscrutable, and Marian continued, "I've read all your publications—all the ones on the Dark Arts anyway. Potions aren't really my thing. But my point is that this was before I knew I'd meet you—I read your work in the ordinary course of research, and many other witches and wizards do too. In Britain, you may be looked upon primarily as a teacher, but you have worldwide fame as a researcher."

Snape had twin spots of color on his cheeks by the time she finished speaking, and seemed to stand a little straighter than before. Marian watched him with something unfathomable in her eyes. Merlin, but she loved to make him happy. After a moment, he changed the subject smoothly and asked, "But what if she decides to check your ridiculous story about all of your 'relatives' in the American Ministry?"

"She won't," Marian replied confidently, "If she's not the biggest xenophobe on the planet, then I'll pay for lying. That's why she persecutes Hagrid, because he's a half-giant. And Harry says she has many bad things to say about Remus as well. I'm a foreigner from the United States—and from the _Southern_ part to boot, so I just played into her stereotype of us as inbred, ignorant and unsophisticated. And no matter how well-connected she believes I am, I think I made myself sufficiently obnoxious to deter her from making any attempts to cultivate my acquaintance further."

His eyes glimmered with mirth and he replied, "Well, since apparently it's a day for quoting Muggle poets, I suppose you've proven yourself 'wise enough to play the fool', but I still worry that you've made a powerful enemy. She's going to want revenge for being humiliated in front of the staff."

"Maybe, but she's a sadist, and would swallow up the whole world and everyone in it if she could. I could flatter her until her ass was permanently indented with the outline of my lips, and I would still not be safe if I found myself in her power. In fact, I believe that she would have hated me a thousand times more if I had presented myself as I really am. She would suspect me of all sorts of nefarious collusion with Dumbledore. But as it is, I am currently roaming unsupervised through the school, and have not even been followed—I've been checking," Marian contended, and Severus let the matter drop.

Changing tacks again, he asked, "So how have things been between you and _the hound_?"

"Ms. Bear? Well, things are going much as they usually….Oh, you're talking about Sirius," Marian realized.

He nodded sharply, lips pursed in dislike. Marian wondered if he had any idea how fascinating she found his lips and their million expressions. Even though he seemed so untouchable, so remote, she longed to melt into him and devour those lips every time they quirked in a question, or whenever they curved into a smirk, or twisted in anger. She couldn't help the rush of excitement she felt every time she looked at his mouth, no matter what expression currently occupied it.

Marian shook her head to snap herself out of her reverie, "Well, he claims he doesn't remember anything about that night, so I filled him in. He apologized profusely, and is trying to make it up to me, I guess. Things have more or less returned to normal. I don't go over there very often now that the Weasleys have moved back to the Burrow."

Snape looked unexpectedly disappointed with her report and said sarcastically, "Of course it's just a matter of time before he wins you over completely with his charm. And then all will be forgiven."

"What are you talking about?" Marian asked, confused by his sudden hostility.

"Some men spare no evil, from assault to attempted murder, but are forgiven_ everything_; while others commit one slip of the tongue, and are cast forever into the outer darkness," he said bitterly.

"Severus, I'm not completely sure what's happened between the two of you before, but I think it should be obvious which of you I prefer. He may have my forgiveness, but I saw some things swimming around in his soul that I didn't like. You have my loyalty. You're my…friend—he's only an acquaintance, and I suspect that's all he'll ever be," Marian said gently.

His dark eyes bored into hers searchingly. For a wild moment, Marian thought he might try to use Legilimency on her, but instead he rejoined coolly, "I'm a scientist, and I know that one way to discover truth is to replicate an experiment. When it can be reproduced and it yields the same results time and again, then the principle it illustrates starts to look more like an immutable law rather than just some crazy theory of mine. What is true of science is also true of life on the social plane, and I have been a party to this same sordid 'experiment' many times before. And now, as _always_, Black will be triumphant. He has a way of getting people on his side, and has always been irresistible to women. Do not doubt it. He will win you over in the end."

"I don't think that you're accounting for all of the variables," she said quietly, "Some things have changed since the last time you faced off against him and lost."

He said nothing further on the matter, and they discussed Harry's unsuccessful Occlumency lessons under cover of a Muffliato as he escorted her out of the castle to the Apparition Point on the outskirts of the grounds, standing very close to her, as if for warmth.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11: Behind the Veil

The next three months passed in a blur. After Umbridge and Minister Fudge attempted to arrest Professor Dumbledore for building up a private army, although the 'army' in question was really only a defense club for students founded and run by Harry Potter, with no real connection to Dumbledore at all, things had been steadily heading downhill for the Order. With Dumbledore in hiding, the Ministry in complete control at Hogwarts, Harry Potter betraying Snape's trust to such a degree that he discontinued his Occlumency lessons, and the Dementors and all of the Death Eaters free and actively doing Voldemort's bidding, the Order of the Phoenix had seen better days.

Marian had been working for weeks on a project she thought might come in handy in the coming war. She was tampering with Muggle spy equipment, particularly electronic bugs tiny enough to be planted on a person. Her goal was to make them work even in strong magical fields. Once she managed to do this, she hoped that she would be able to cast spells for extended battery life, invisibility, and perhaps add another few features.

She had not been to an Order meeting since the beginning of April and it was now the end of the month. It had become common practice not to gather everyone together in one place unless there was information that they should all hear. Apparently, Professor Snape's reports were not for the ears of the whole group anymore. This pleased Marian, because, although she desperately wanted to know how he was and what he was doing, it had always bothered her that he gave so much information to even the most untrustworthy members of the Order. It had seemed like an unnecessary risk for him to take. Eventually, the Dark Lord might find out exactly how much he was actually telling the other side.

Marian blushed as she thought back to the last meeting. It had been a bit of a fiasco. She had not seen Professor Snape since her visit to Hogwarts in February, and had been very excited at the thought of encountering him again. So that evening she had worn lovely spring robes of a periwinkle blue, cleverly-draped, diaphanous material, and had dressed her hair with special care. Around her neck, Marian displayed a mother-of-pearl crusader cross she had picked up on an adventure in the Holy Land.

She had sat quietly for months during Order meetings, watching and listening, discovering the dynamics of the group. She couldn't help noticing that the enmity between Severus Snape and Sirius Black seemed even more vicious than before. Marian also observed that public opinion was firmly on Black's side, which wasn't surprising, considering that it was his house, and that he was handsome, charismatic and had a vendetta against Snape. Professor Snape hated him just as fiercely, but no one sided with the dour Potions Master, with his sarcasm, irritability, and formal airs. Most members of the Order disliked Snape, but didn't dare show him obvious disrespect. There were a few however—the most vocal of these being Sirius and Mad-Eye, who constantly called Snape's loyalty into question and made rude remarks and insinuations.

It outraged her that Snape did the most stressful, dangerous and useful work for the Order, and yet the people he risked his life to gather information for disregarded him. The disrespect varied, from Sirius' venom to Moody's spiteful distrust to Tonks' insolence and the Weasley twins' mockery (the twins were full-fledged members now that they no longer attended Hogwarts). Marian felt that even Dumbledore did nothing to make Snape feel less alone, sometimes acting above it all and other times coming down on Severus, because with the hold he had over him, he knew he could make him back down from any argument. The indignation she felt had been building and building, and this particular meeting she had finally had enough.

Dumbledore had called everyone together, but something had come up—no one was saying what it was-and he had been unable to make it, commissioning Mad-Eye to chair the meeting in his stead and Professor McGonagall to report on the situation at Hogwarts. When Snape had swept into the room, his eyes had lingered on Marian just a moment longer than necessary. She smiled brilliantly at him, her face flushing with color. His eyes seemed to soften for a fraction of a second before he turned away.

Eventually, it was his turn to speak, and he talked about how the Dark Lord had seemed very pleased about something lately, but no one knew what, and that he had given Lucius Malfoy a secret mission that was to take place sometime in the next few weeks. Bellatrix LeStrange currently sat at the Dark Lord's right hand, and she was openly mistrustful of Snape. He suspected that her influence over the Dark Lord was to blame for him being left in the dark in regards to the coming mission.

After he finished speaking, Moody called out a completely unrelated question, "Is it true that you have discontinued Potter's Occlumency lessons?"

With a flicker of hostility passing over his face, Snape replied indifferently, "Yes, but that is a private matter between Dumbledore, Potter and myself."

"Oh, I don't know about that, Snape. It seems to me that as Harry's godfather, I ought to be included in that group," Sirius called out mockingly.

"You approved the lessons, but you never asked how many there would be. In fact, we only asked for your permission as a courtesy, since you are not Potter's legal guardian," Snape said dismissively. Marian could tell he was trying to be professional, but the others were relentless. It was like a pack of dogs jumping on a fox.

"Sure, Snape. Sure. But Dumbledore isn't exactly on the scene at Hogwarts much these days," Moody taunted.

Snape stilled, and replied in a soft, deadly voice, "And just _what_ do you mean by that?"

When Sirius laughed and added, "He means that there's no one at Hogwarts to hold your leash anymore. As it is, you gave Harry just enough lessons to open up his mind to You-Know-Who, and then discontinued them with the flimsy excuse that Harry had disrespected you—when everybody in this room knows that if anything, it was the other way around."

Marian couldn't take it anymore. "This is disgraceful!" she burst out, practically trembling with fury, "How _dare_ you speak to him in such a fashion?"

Everyone looked at her in shock, although no one looked more shocked than Severus Snape, who quickly recovered his equilibrium and said waspishly, "Thank you, Ms. Oliver, but I believe I am perfectly capable of defending myself."

"Of course you're capable—more than capable. That clever tongue of yours is capable of great and terrible things, _Professor Snape_," he blinked at this and one of the Weasley twins snickered. Marian continued, "You don't need my defense, but you deserve it! You live a life of constant stress, constant danger, bringing us information, and you deserve the respect and support of us all."

She turned back to the group, and stared intently at a sullen Sirius and then at an irritated Moody. "He deserves better….Whatever we have against each other, let's just drop it while we're at Headquarters. We have more important things to focus on, and I'm sick to death of insults and snide comments being directed at our double agent. He protects us with the misinformation he feeds the enemy; we should shield him as well."

A few people looked as if they wanted to make comments, but after Professor McGonagall's "Quite so, Ms. Oliver," no one had anything more to say on the matter. The rest of the meeting had been uneventful, but Marian could sense the resentment of several of the other Order members directed at her. She could tell that they disliked being chastised by someone they viewed as only a marginal member that had never contributed to the cause in any meaningful way. But as far as Marian was concerned, they could think what they wanted about her, as long as they quit abusing Severus in her hearing.

As she rose from her seat and pushed her chair under the table, a breeze rustled her hair and she heard Severus' silky voice mutter beside her ear, "I suppose you know that you're an interfering busybody."

She turned regally and fixed him with a calculating gaze, but was unable to discern if the emotion she sensed was anger or something else. She decided that he was only pretending to be piqued, and replied smoothly, "That's right. But some men find it attractive."

"They must be mad," he purred, but his dark eyes belied his words as they drank in her face and figure.

"I find that most men are," Marian answered archly, and then she looked him in the eye and murmured, "_You_ certainly are."

With a huff that might have been amused or exasperated, he muttered, "I must be," and with one last fleeting look, he turned and glided out of the meeting, already late to supervise a detention. Marian went into the kitchen to speak to Tonks, but it was several minutes before her heart rate returned to normal.

In the weeks that passed after the Order meeting where Marian had leapt to Severus' defense, his absence caused a dull ache inside her that never seemed to go away, and it became excruciating after she received a package one day containing an impressive amount of perfectly-brewed Polyjuice, and no note. But it didn't need one; she knew who it was from. And the fact that he was still thinking about her and spending his incredibly valuable spare time doing things to please her, comforted her and made her labor even more passionately in hammering out strategies to keep him safe.

With only the information Marian gleaned at the Burrow from Arthur and from Tonks' infrequent visits, she had only a basic sense of how bad things had gotten at the Ministry. Fudge suspected everyone of siding with Dumbledore against him and plotting to undermine his authority. Apparently, the situation at Hogwarts had become unbearable as well, as she realized after she had had to spend hours consoling Molly over how the twins had emancipated themselves and flown off to Diagon Alley to seek their fortunes.

There had been more disappearances and a few Dementor sightings, but all had been mostly quiet on the Death Eater front. And so she couldn't have been more surprised when an emergency Order meeting was called in the middle of the day—and everyone was to gather at Hogwarts, instead of Grimmauld Place. Marian Apparated to the gates with a sinking feeling.

As a large group milled around Dumbledore's office, which seemed to have expanded for the occasion, Tonks filled Marian in on the details of the afternoon in whispers. Apparently, Voldemort had set a trap for Harry, planting a false vision in his mind and luring him and his friends to the Department of Mysteries, where he had hoped the Death Eaters lying in wait would be able to force Harry to recover a certain prophecy for him. But Severus had tipped off the Order and several members had arrived to fight—Marian wondered why she hadn't been called.

You-Know-Who himself had shown up and battled it out with Dumbledore. Apparently, he had failed to recover the prophecy, and now the wizarding world knew he was back, so it looked as though they had won the day. No children had died, and several Death Eaters had been captured. But there had been one casualty-Sirius had fallen through the Veil. And when she told her this, Tonks began to cry.

"Wait a minute—what are you talking about?" Marian asked in confusion.

"There is a Death Chamber in the Department of Mysteries, with an ancient stone archway up on a dais in the middle of the room. We could hear whispers through it. Everyone was fighting there, and Bellatrix knocked Sirius off-balance and he fell backwards through the Veil. They say that no one ever comes back through—that it is the gate of Death. If you pass through alive, you immediately join the ranks of the dead," Tonks wept.

Marian wore a grim look, and said, "Tonks, I need to go to the Department of Mysteries. _Now_."

"What are you talking about? Sirius' body isn't there. He's gone, Marian," she exclaimed, and Remus materialized out of nowhere, looking gray and bent as though he had aged ten years, and put his arm around her shoulder in silent support.

"Tonks. Listen to me. _Sirius isn't dead yet._ The Arch is not what you think it is. There may still be a chance to save him. You have to get me into the Death Chamber—I'm going to Disillusion myself. It would be better if I wasn't seen. Remus, tell Dumbledore where I've gone," Marian said in a rush.

"Perhaps you can tell me yourself, my dear," came a mild voice from behind her, and the room suddenly went still.

"Professor Dumbledore. If Sirius Black was alive when he passed through the Veil, then he is alive still," Marian spoke with conviction, glancing around the room for Severus, but not finding him.

"Indeed?" he asked curiously, "How do you know this?"

"I have a friend in Germany from a very old pureblood family, and his library contained an ancient text with a picture of the arch Tonks has described. And under the image, it tells the story of how a very cruel and powerful Saxon lord hired the cleverest spell-caster of his age to develop two arches, which were to be used for the death of his enemies. The idea was to have the two 'Veils' set up in different places. One was moveable—the one you have in the Department of Mysteries, but the other was located in a fixed spot, and an unplottable fortress was built up around it. This was a place with no exits-a prison, designed to drain a wizard's magic until he grew so weak that his spirit left his body and he became a ghost—a ghost that would never leave his eternal cell. Those are the whispers you hear through the Veil—they are the voices of the dead, and there must be a good many of them by now. No magic can be used inside this stronghold, and no one has strength enough to force a way out. Those who go there stay there," Marian related starkly.

"What about the gateway? Can he not pass back through and come out in the Department of Mysteries?" Remus asked with a gleam of hope.

"No. Each door has one function. There is an entrance and there is an exit. Nothing has ever emerged from the door in the Department of Mysteries, has it? No—I'm afraid things can only enter there and follow the path as it was defined. The wizard that commissioned it used to force captured enemy armies to march through. He even let the wizards keep their wands, and they thought they were merely being resettled, little dreaming that such a hideous doom awaited them on the other side of that empty archway," she murmured.

"So basically, you're telling me that my best friend didn't die instantly—that he's dying an evil, wasting death as we speak and that his twelve years in Azkaban weren't enough—that even in death he will remain an eternal prisoner," Remus said angrily, his voice cracking with anguish.

"If we leave him there much longer, then that's exactly what's going to happen. But while there's life, there's hope. And I have a plan—after all, it's time I did something for the Order," Marian said, endeavoring to be cheerful, although she felt her plan only had about a fifty-fifty chance of success.

"We must save this poor boy if we can. Tell us what you wish to do," Dumbledore said solemnly.

"I want to take a Portkey, and go into the Veil after him," Marian said, to the astonishment of the others.

A tall, auburn-haired witch scoffed at her and said, "If he has as little time as you say, then there is no way to get a Portkey made in time. The Ministry is in chaos right now. Besides, if this place is magic-proof, won't that rule out a Portkey anyway? You'd just become stuck like he is."

"As far as the Portkey goes, that is one of my specialties. I can create an unlicensed Portkey in under five minutes. I always knew that skill would come in handy one day….And the room drains the power of witches and wizards. It was designed to target the _human_ magical signature. This is why a wand is useless there, because wands merely channel the power that comes out of the wizard. But a portkey uses a completely different sort of magic. It does not possess living, changing magic, but dead magic. It has no potential to become more powerful or to do anything other than exactly what it was spelled to do. It is a magical _object_. Once the spell activates the portkey, it possesses magic in its own right, completely independent of that of the witch or wizard that carries it. This is just my theory—perhaps the chamber _does_ block all magic, and in that case, the Veil will claim two victims rather than one. But I believe my hunch enough to stake my life on it.

"It seems inconceivable to me that the most cunning wizard of his time, commissioned to create such diabolical things for a man so treacherous and evil, would not leave a back-door of a sort in case he found himself taking a one-way stroll through his own invention. Everyone knows that even in magic there are few certainties. Even many of the most deadly spells and potions can be undone or gotten around. That is why many of the notable exceptions are labeled 'Unforgivable' or 'Unbreakable'—although even the majority of the 'Unforgivables' are not permanent," Marian finished, receiving astonished looks from many of the members that had thought of her as the young and rather useless kitchen help at Order meetings.

Remus' eyes were burning with a desperate hope, and he said, "Let me go through."

"No!" Marian interjected sharply, "I will stake my own life on this theory, but I'll be damned before I sacrifice anyone else. There are untold risks involved. Even if the portkey does work, there is no telling how large the space is. It is likely it will be pitch dark—that is usually the way of places that absorb magical energy—no light, magical or Muggle, will avail you there.

"And whoever goes through that Veil will come out the other side much weaker than when they went in, and will get rapidly weaker all the time. It may not be very long at all before they're unable to stand, or crawl. And don't forget that the place is filled with hostile ghosts, who have been festering in hate and madness in an enclosed space for centuries. They could easily distract one by, say, mimicking Sirius' voice and leading one on a wild goose chase until the weakness becomes too much. They might even snatch the Portkey.

"No—I will not permit you to do this, Remus. Harry needs you—you will be his surrogate father if Sirius doesn't come back. You can't let him down like that. You have to stay here and do your duty," she told him sternly, and then turned to Dumbledore and said, "Please, we have no time to lose. I'm going to make a Portkey, and then I'll need the help of one of these Aurors to get me into the Ministry."

"Consider it done. Tonks, Kingsley, take Marian to the Apparition Point and then guide her to the Death Chamber. As important as Sirius' life is to all of us, many events have taken place today that must be addressed immediately. The course of the war has changed drastically in one afternoon, and I ask that the rest of you remain here for the meeting. My dear, may you succeed in your quest."

As she spun on her heel, followed by the Aurors, and had just reached for the door handle, Remus called out loudly, in a last-ditch effort to induce her to trade places with him, "And what do you think Severus would have to say about this?"

The room quieted immediately, everyone struck with the implication of his words. Marian felt a pang at the mention of his name, but skillfully deflected his insinuation by replying, "Now Remus, I think you underestimate him. He and Sirius don't get along, but I seriously doubt that he would wish an end like this on him," and then exited the room. But Marian knew very well that that hadn't been what Remus was implying at all.

It was a ten minute walk down to the gates of Hogwarts, apparently the closest place to Apparate. The Floo Network at the Ministry had been closed down for the day after the Aurors had found Death Eaters in the building. Marian was furious over the delay. Every moment that passed made her task more difficult and less likely to succeed. She Disillusioned herself and Side-Along Apparated with Tonks, and was stunned when she saw the Ministry's atrium. Apparently, the battle had not only taken place in the Death Chamber. Tonks was constantly tripping over rubble and knocking into her, which made Marian very nervous. The place was crawling with Aurors and reporters. She certainly didn't want to be intercepted before she reached her goal.

Several flights of stairs and corridors later, they finally reached their destination. Marian lifted the Disillusionment Charm and gazed in awe at the large, vaulted chamber, empty except for the dais in the center, capped with a stone archway that exuded ancient, ominous magic. It seemed to call to her, and she shivered with horror at its beauty and simplicity, which effectively concealed its true nature. Tonks and Kingsley shuffled around nervously. Now that they were no longer dodging hexes from a pack of Death Eaters, and the room was still and quiet, they felt extremely uneasy in the Veil's eerie presence. Marian pulled a Muggle pen out of her pocket and stared at it in concentration for a couple of minutes. Then she gingerly picked it up with a fold of material from her dress and placed it in her pocket, careful not to touch it. She had set the portkey to activate at the touch of skin, and if all went to plan, it would deliver her and Sirius directly to the gates at Hogwarts.

Marian looked at the two of them, and smiled a little unsteadily. Tonks suddenly lunged at her, wrapped her in a tight hug and burst into tears. "Tonks, stop it. It's going to be alright. I'm going to go and get your cousin. We should be arriving at the Apparition point at Hogwarts any time….But if I don't make it, do me a favor and have Dumbledore send a Muggle bomb through the Veil. I'd rather not be stuck as a ghost in a dark prison with a bunch of other crazy ghosts for all eternity," Marian laughed shakily.

"You got it," she said with a sniff. And so, with a fond nod at each of them, Marian climbed the steps of the dais, head held high, and stepped through the Veil. It was the most difficult thing she had ever done. As she approached the gateway, Marian had never felt more alone. But she thought of Severus, and his life of constant risk, and steeled herself enough to step through into the emptiness.

Only it wasn't emptiness. It was filled with…a presence; although she had paradoxically never sensed a place more lifeless. There was a scent in the air that she did not like. Marian immediately felt weaker, and it seemed harder to breathe. The place was filled with a preternatural darkness, and the moment she emerged on the other side of the Veil, she instinctively dropped to her hands and knees to try to regain her equilibrium. She groped in all directions and felt nothing but air and cold stone floor. After a few moments of intently listening, she thought she heard the sound of footsteps creeping up on her, faster and faster, but she soon realized that it was just the drumming of her own heartbeat. Marian felt frightened, but she had known what to expect, more or less, so she pulled herself together and began groping forward, too mistrustful to stand. After all, there might be pits. She hadn't read that there _weren't_. And so, crawling in a straight line, Marian called out, "Sirius! Sirius Black!"

If she had thought the silence was awful, it couldn't compare to what happened next. Suddenly the air around her seemed filled with voices—harsh, unnatural voices calling to her in several different languages. Marian soon realized that the spirits couldn't see her, but she knew they could feel her, as something suddenly gave her hair a sharp tug. "Sirius! Answer me, dammit!" she yelled.

And suddenly something happened that was very frightening indeed.

"Here I am!" "No, I'm here!" "Come and find me!" "Help!" "Over here!" called voices from all over, and some sounded very far away. But the terrifying part was that they all sounded uncannily like Sirius Black. Focusing on the voice in front of her, that continually called, "Help me! Come get me out!" she crawled forward, although she began to feel like she was crawling through molasses. It took a tremendous effort to keep going, and it wasn't only because Marian was unused to the exercise. She was feeling frailer every minute. After crawling for quite a while, she finally reached a wall, and then the voice she had been following suddenly changed. Now it sounded nothing like Sirius, but had a cockney accent that held unmistakable malice, "You have plenty of time to find him. All the time in the world!"

Marian was growing very worried now. She had been lured off-course so easily, and felt fairly certain that wherever she had ended up was nowhere near Sirius. It troubled her that so many of the voices were English. Perhaps at some point, in its ignorance, the Ministry had used the Veil to administer death sentences to criminals. Also, unseen hands grasped at her, messing up her hair and tugging at her arms and feet, slowing her down, tripping her up. Marian had to crawl with one hand guarding the pocket that contained the Portkey. She couldn't take the chance of one of them fishing it out, and this made her going considerably slower. She felt a little better that she had finally found a wall, and decided to feel her way along it—at least it was some sort of guide. Marian thought that Sirius was probably leaning against the wall somewhere too weak to reply, and decided to simply grope along until she touched something. After all, she wouldn't feel the ghosts—unless they reached out to her. But then Marian had a very unpleasant thought. It occurred to her that she might perhaps stumble upon the corpses belonging to the ghosts. After all, these people had come here to die and rot. There had been nowhere for them to go, and so they had stayed—their spirits_ and_ their bodies.

Marian thought that there were surely no pits directly next to the wall, and so she decided to stand. It was a nasty shock when she realized that she no longer had the strength. Her arms were already trembling with exertion. Her body shook so hard she could barely hold herself up. The ghosts were thronging around her, and she could hear nothing over their horrible clamor. "Sirius," she screamed futilely, over and over into the darkness, until her tongue felt strangely thick and useless, and she trailed off to barely a whisper.

She didn't know how it happened, but she suddenly found herself too drained to think, and slumped over onto her back. Marian reached up to swat away the cold hands that thronged about her face, but her arms didn't seem to want to obey her. They felt like they were made of lead, swollen and clumsy. And suddenly one ghost was more insistent than the rest. Its cold nose kept poking into her cheek. She wanted to slap it away, but only managed to fling her arm out to the side, where it touched a warm, furry foreleg. And all at once, hope flared within her, giving her a moment of clarity, and she wrapped her hand around the living leg, and with the other, reached into her pocket.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12: Recharging at Hogwarts

Marian blinked as she found herself lying on warm grass on a cool late April evening, with a breeze blowing her hair into her face and the lights from the village twinkling down the hillside. But something was wrong with her. She could hardly move. Marian felt completely depleted of strength, and wondered vaguely whether this was how old people felt before they faded away in their sleep. There were voices all around her, but they seemed friendly, familiar, lacking the cold, ringing echoes of the voices from her waking nightmare. "Someone put her on a stretcher. We have to get her to St. Mungo's," yelled a woman—Tonks, she thought.

Suddenly, she felt several pairs of hands on her, and tried to shrink away from them, her horror of being pawed at only compounded by her recent experience. And she whispered, "No. Not the hospital. Send me home."

"That's ridiculous," a bossy male voice proclaimed, "You're too weak. You have to go to St. Mungo's."

"No!" she hissed, growing upset, and completely draining herself in the process, "I know what's wrong. Expected it. Need rest. Magic and strength will come back in a few days. My decision is final. Stop touching me!"

"Just ignore her," said another voice, "She's so weak that she's not thinking clearly. She doesn't know what's best."

"No!" Marian whispered through cracked lips, growing more and more hysterical in her exhaustion, "Not St. Mungo's. And get…back."

Snape suddenly Apparated into their midst. He held a Death Eater mask in one hand, and when he spotted the scene going on in front of him, he appeared terrible in his anger, sweeping through the ranks like one bent on destruction. There was something feral about him, and his eyes held a predatory gleam, although Marian noticed lines on his face she had never seen before and felt concern for him prickling under her skin.

"What is going on here?" he asked coldly.

One of the Aurors in the Order stepped forward when no one else seemed inclined to draw Snape's attention and replied, "Ms. Oliver rescued Black from the Veil by going in after him, but it drained all of her energy, magical and physical. Black is in much better shape, but he arrived here in his Animagus form and seems too weak to transform back just yet. Oliver can't even move, but she doesn't want us to send her to St. Mungo's. She wants to go home, and says that she knew what would happen when she went through the Veil, and that she only needs a few days of rest before she'll regain her strength. But the ghosts behind the Veil might have injured her. She may need to be checked out because she has some bruising on her arms and it seems to upset her when any of us touch her."

"Then don't touch her!" Snape barked at him, and then he added, "Have none of you summoned Professor Dumbledore?"

When the group milling about looked sheepish, Severus immediately turned and fired off his Patronus. A few moments later, Dumbledore appeared on the trailhead a short distance away, "Thank you, my dear boy, but I was already on my way down," he told Snape. The two of them whispered together for a moment, and then Dumbledore looked satisfied.

"Professor Dumbledore, what should we do with her?" the Auror asked despairingly.

"It's alright, John. You may leave her here. We will see that she's looked after. If she doesn't want to go to the hospital, then she will remain here at Hogwarts," Dumbledore said with finality.

On the way up to the castle on the stretcher, Severus walked alongside her, guiding her carefully, but he wouldn't look at her, although she gazed at him the whole time through half-closed lids.

"Professor Dumbledore," she whispered.

"Yes, my dear. You were very brave today. What can I do for you?" he asked pleasantly.

"Keep them...off of me," she said, and Snape's knuckles whitened on the side of the stretcher.

"Very well. No one will touch you unless you wish it. When you are strong enough, you can change into something more comfortable. But someone will have to dress those cuts on your arms and cheek. Would you allow Severus to assist you?" he asked kindly.

Snape's eyes flicked to her face unbidden, and she murmured, "Severus, my—yes."

A slight tremor of emotion passed through him in spite of himself, but Marian missed it, as she had just fallen into a deep sleep. But Dumbledore's keen eyes saw everything, and he said quietly, "I do not think you will mind watching over her and making sure she regains her strength as she should."

Snape shook his head, and then he suddenly remembered himself and hissed furiously, "Headmaster, I find it rather suspicious that I was packed off to make potions while this decision was being made. And then you presented me with the _fait accompli_ as I was on my way out to join the Dark Lord, when it was too late for me to protect her….I have been writhing in terror all day. How could you send her through the Veil? Why _her_, of all people? She is a researcher—not a combatant. That's why I didn't allow her to be summoned to the battle today!"

"My dear boy, you must remember that you have responsibilities no one else is qualified to perform, and that they must come first."

Severus snorted with impatience and irony, and Dumbledore continued gently, "But when I made my decision, it didn't even enter my head that you would be so affected by it. And I never sent you off to make those potions for the injured students with the object of getting you out of the way. I didn't dream that Sirius could still be alive, but Marian made a convincing case. She was the only one that knew the Veil's actual function, and she had a plan to circumvent it. Besides, she's a difficult woman to refuse. Remus wanted to take her place, but she was adamant," Dumbledore answered conciliatorily.

"And Black! He comes bounding through the Veil as spry as a very devil out of hell. By tomorrow, that cur will be completely back to normal, but _Marian_…she is at the very threshold of death. Her magical energy is so low that I cannot even detect it. I have never seen anyone magical survive a state like this," he snapped, adding as an afterthought, "As if Black didn't have enough evil to his account already. And yet, he tirelessly invents new reasons for me to hate him."

"Oh Severus, I don't think any of us will come off very well if we start keeping a ledger of our sins," Dumbledore chastised, brushing off Severus' concerns. It was often like this between the two of them. Dumbledore valued Severus for what he contributed to the war effort, but had never had much patience with him. Severus sensed this, and even though he highly respected Dumbledore, he always felt a bit wrong-footed in his presence.

He nodded sharply, and then they found themselves in the hospital wing. "Poppy!" Dumbledore called.

"I'm coming, Albus. What can I do for you?...Oh!" the little white-haired lady exclaimed, as she saw Marian's still form lying on the stretcher.

"Do you have any private rooms open?" he asked.

"Why, yes….Although, I've been busy enough, with all of the injured students from the Department of Mysteries. They're all in stable condition now, but some of them looked positively dreadful when they were brought in. What is wrong with this girl—she's that curse-breaker, isn't she?" Poppy asked, peering at Marian's face with her wise old eyes.

"That's right. She has been drained of energy—magically and physically, by some very old, very dangerous magic. She should regain her strength on her own in a few days, but I dare say a bit of Strengthening Solution would not go amiss….Oh, and another thing, Poppy. She just had a rather traumatic experience in a dark place with ghosts scratching and hitting her and grasping at her face and hair, so she doesn't want to be touched. You're not to treat her, but just look in on her every now and then, and cast spells to empty her bladder and to place food and liquids in her stomach," Dumbledore commanded.

"But what about changing her and dressing her wounds?" Poppy asked, scandalized, adding, "Besides, she's asleep. She'll probably never know…."

"Right. I'm sure she'll _never_ figure out what happened when she wakes up and finds herself in different clothing," Snape said sarcastically, and continued in a tone of finality, "No, we will respect her wishes."

"She has given permission for Professor Snape to treat her injuries," Dumbledore said, a bit apologetically.

"_Him_! But _I'm_ the Mediwitch!" she exclaimed in outrage.

"Yes—you are. And a very good one. But this girl has done a very valiant thing today, and it is only fair that we keep faith with her. She trusts Professor Snape—to her, you are an unknown," he soothed.

And before Madame Pomfrey could object further, he had turned and moved towards the door, and, with one last twinkle in their direction, he was gone.

When, Marian regained consciousness, she could see the evening sun filtering through the window panes. Ms. Bear climbed onto her chest and stared earnestly into her face, giving Marian's nose a lick. She smiled at the puppy in bemusement, but finally managed to focus on what had woken her. It was two men, arguing in low tones.

"Severus, given enough time, she would have healed on her own. There was no need for such drastic…countermeasures," Dumbledore's disapproval drifted over to where she lay with closed eyes.

"You don't know that! She's been lying there unconscious for _days_, while Black has been up and about since the morning after," Snape argued vehemently.

"Yes, but we both know that Sirius is an Animagus, and that he wouldn't be as susceptible to that sort of magic—as we saw with him when he was able to withstand the Dementors for twelve years and retain his sanity," Snape looked as if he wanted to dispute the last comment, but Dumbledore carried on, "In any case, you should have consulted me. She is convalescing in Hogwarts, and therefore ultimately my responsibility."

"We both know I couldn't _consult_ you. You never would have agreed!" Snape responded, completely unrepentant.

"Severus, you are going to need all your strength for the days ahead. Your life is not your own to do with as you please. It was extremely foolish to transfer any of your own power. You should have known that I would be alerted at once if such a powerful, dangerous spell was cast on the premises. Besides—it's Dark Magic. I thought your days of dabbling in the Dark Arts were over," Dumbledore corrected sternly.

"You and I know very well that the distinction between a normal spell and a 'Dark' spell is completely arbitrary. It generally depends upon the intent of the caster, and I can assure that my motives were completely altruistic….And you needn't have mentioned that my life doesn't belong to me—trust me when I say I've been painfully conscious of that fact for the last fifteen years or so. But since I entered your service, I have consistently done your bidding, no matter the consequences—which have often been highly unpleasant. So it should not concern you if every now and then I behave as though I have a soul and a will of my own. My decision to give her some of my surplus magical energy was a perfectly legitimate one, as I have always had more raw power than most. I barely feel the effects of the spell," Snape rejoined defiantly.

"What do you mean '_feel_'? Has the spell not yet been terminated?" Dumbledore asked, glancing up at him sharply.

"What do you take me for, Headmaster? I'm a Slytherin. Self-sacrifice is a purely Gryffindor act….I may act the part of your puppet, but I have never been a fool," Severus retorted.

"I'm sorry about your position, Severus, but you know that your own choices are responsible for where you are….But what's done is done, so I don't suppose there is any point in arguing over it further. Besides, Ms. Oliver is awake and no doubt we're upsetting her," Dumbledore said, and Snape's head snapped around so fast she wondered if he had whiplash. He met her eyes for a fraction of a second, but then seemed to be looking her over, assessing her.

"Severus, I will see you tomorrow. Get some rest tonight. You cannot continue on as you have. You're positively grouchy," Dumbledore said, and favored Marian with a friendly smile before he silently exited the room.

Her delicate, translucent eyelids fluttered, and Marian struggled to keep them open. "What's happened?" she asked quietly, and a million expressions flitted across his face before he swept over to her bedside and sat in the chair beside it, tense with suppressed energy.

"Are all Americans this arrogant, or are you a class set apart?" he asked angrily, out of the blue.

"Well, I don't know. I hear that New Yorkers are worse than we are in the South, but I guess you could take a poll….Don't be angry with me, Severus," she murmured, when her joke fell flat.

His eyes darkened, and for a moment he looked like he wanted to shake her. But after a moment, he had schooled his face into a blank expression and said tonelessly, "Sit up. I have some potions for you to take. Strengthening solution, nutrition, and something to protect your immune system while you're still weak."

"You'll have to help me sit up. I don't think I can manage it," she said quietly, glancing away in shame.

He didn't respond, but gently lifted her upper body into a sitting position and slid behind her, supporting her with his chest. Marian felt exquisitely boneless, and leaned against him completely, her head falling back against the crook of his neck. She felt that she had never known true warmth before this moment, the delicious heat of his chest and arms wrapping around her and comforting her as nothing else ever had. He secured her with a protective arm around her waist, and with the other, he carefully lifted the first potion to her mouth. Marian was feeling unusually languorous and unguarded, and was completely overcome by the feel of him. If his words had told her that he was angry, his body betrayed a very different message. She pressed herself against him intimately, draping her arm over his on her waist, and began idly caressing the inside of his wrist.

Severus stilled, but she thought she felt his heart rate kick up a notch. Marian was certain that his hand shook as he held the second vial to her lips, and hoped that it was because she was having an effect on him, rather than because of the spell she had heard Dumbledore talking about. Perhaps Severus had expended too much of his own energy. She reached up with her other hand and wrapped it around his.

And just then, the door swung open without warning and Marian found herself looking up into the shocked face of Sirius Black.

"Hi! It's good to see you," she said with a smile, but felt Severus' arm tighten around her in response to her words.

"I came here to thank you, but it's obvious that I'm interrupting something," he said in a hard tone, and he didn't look at her as he spoke. Instead, he glared at Snape with pure loathing in his eyes.

"Severus is giving me some potions. I've only just woken up," she told him.

"I can see he didn't waste any time then," Sirius snarled.

"Look, I don't know what your problem is—I don't quite feel one hundred percent and my head is still a bit fuzzy, so I'd be very grateful if we could keep this friendly," she said, forcing the words through her lips, which still seemed reluctant to respond to her commands, although Marian was feeling better every moment. The indolence she had first felt when she leaned against Severus was dissipating, and she began to sense a stirring in her blood. She could feel the magic singing through her veins, and wondered when she had ever felt such potential...such power.

"Well, I'll leave and then the two of you can get back to being as 'friendly' as you want," Sirius replied hotly, but then looked immediately contrite and said, "Marian, I'm so sorry. I don't know what got into me. I just wanted to thank you for what you did. Dumbledore told me you had woken up, so I thought I'd come by. I don't know how you managed to rescue me from that…hell, but it was the bravest and most selfless thing anyone has ever done for me….But we'll talk another time, when you're feeling better and _your judgment is not impaired_." This last was directed at Snape, who paled with fury at his insinuation.

After the door closed behind him, there were a few moments of silence, and she could feel that Severus was more rigid than he had been before. He began pulling away, although for a moment he squeezed her almost involuntarily, but then slipped from behind her, lowering her head back down to the pillows. "You should rest," he said gruffly.

"You hate that I saved him, don't you?" Marian asked finally, cocking an eye at him.

He answered flatly, "If you're asking me whether I think it was a good bargain to hazard your life for his, then my answer is no."

"Severus, I can't remember when I last felt so good. I feel so relaxed…so powerful," she murmured, stretching catlike on the bed. He watched her impassively, and then busied himself gathering up the used potion vials.

"That's interesting," he murmured, but then he seemed to catch himself and added, in an indifferent tone, "The Strengthening Solution must have reached your bloodstream."

There was something odd about the way he was behaving, but Marian couldn't quite put her finger on it. "No," she said slowly, "The feeling started before I took the potions."

Suddenly, a vial slipped from Severus' hand and shattered on the floor. He was never clumsy, ever. It alarmed Marian to see him dragging his limbs, when he was ordinarily so graceful.

Suddenly, Marian put the pieces together and exclaimed, "In fact, I woke up feeling that way, and it's only getting stronger….Severus—cancel the spell! You're getting weak!"

"In a little while. Not just yet…It's interesting that you reported a pleasurable feeling from the transference. Typically, you would only sense yourself growing stronger, but the experience certainly wouldn't be enjoyable. We must be extraordinarily compatible—our magic, I mean," Severus replied clinically.

"Please! Stop it! You have to end the spell. I know which one it is now, and no one but the caster can undo it. If you grow too weak, you won't be able. And you're already noticeably shakier than you were minutes ago. Severus, cancel it! I refuse to leech off of you any longer!" Marian exclaimed in horror.

"Marian…" he tried to placate her.

"Stop it! You're frightening me!" and suddenly Marian, a woman that typically only shed tears a few times a decade, was sobbing with distress, and attempting to clamber out of the bed to catch hold of him.

Stricken, Severus called, "_Finite Incantantem_! ...Marian—no! Don't cry. Look, there was never any danger. You're overreacting."

Tears still leaking out of the corners of her eyes, Marian stared at him stonily, until even the veteran spy looked a bit unnerved. She asked him sarcastically, "And how would you react, if the situation was reversed?"

"It's a moot point," Severus evaded, "because I would never be foolish enough to drain myself of my life-force in an effort to rescue that mongrel, Black!"

"That's right," she answered sardonically, "because you've never been known to risk your life to save people you don't like—like _Harry Potter_…and would never dream of 'draining yourself of your life-force' as you did for me. _Just now_. You know what, Severus? I know the spell you used. What if I reversed it?"

"Stop being so dramatic," he said disdainfully.

"Very well," and Marian stared at him peculiarly for a few seconds, and he began to get nervous, "Now you're feeding off of _my_ energy, Severus. How does it feel?"

Marian wasn't prepare for his reaction. He shed his cool, clinical façade in an instant and threw himself across the room towards her, with a terrifying look. He caught her by the shoulders, panic visible in every line of his face, and shouted, "Marian, reverse it _now_. You'll kill yourself, you idiot girl!"

"Severus, wait! I didn't really cast it," Marian exclaimed, realizing that she had gotten in way over her head, but was too stubborn to keep from adding, "But I believe I made my point."

He gave her one last shake, and pushed her back onto the bed, where she propped herself up onto one arm and watched with wide eyes as he practically fell into the bedside chair. He spoke in an eerily calm voice, "I cannot _believe_ that you would frighten me like that just to make a point. You win—_of course_ I was upset. I forbid you ever to cast that spell or any like it under any circumstances.

"But I'm not sure what you want from me. If you're expecting me to be sorry that I used it to revive you, then I'm afraid you'll be disappointed. I would do it again—a hundred times over! And you gave up your right to be angry when you caused this whole situation by risking your life to rescue that worthless cretin!" he finished vehemently, with a light flush on cheeks that had grown waxy pale in the preceding minutes.

Suddenly, Marian started laughing, but it was a bitter, ironic sort of laughter. "Listen to us!" she exclaimed, "Neither of us could have reacted other than we did and still be who we are, and yet we're furious at each other for acting completely in character. I don't want to fight with you anymore. I don't think that either of us is up to it at the moment…Thank you. For taking care of me…for the Polyjuice…the spell. Although I still wish you hadn't done it. I've never been so terrified, and I'll never be able to think back on this event without fear….It was very dangerous for you."

"Not dangerous—it was a calculated risk. And completely unlike what you did for Black, incidentally," Severus murmured, still shaken and reluctant to drop the issue.

"That was a calculated risk, too. I knew what might happen behind the Veil, but I had a Portkey just in case," she replied, lying on her side with her cheek resting on her hand, and although she wasn't aware of it, displaying her curves to their full advantage.

He scoffed at her, "There can be no comparison between our actions. I'm not as uninformed as you apparently think. When you passed through that Arch, you and I both know that your Portkey only had a about a fifty percent chance of working. It's pure luck that you're here alive right now. If it wasn't for something you didn't consider—the fact that Black is an Animagus with a very keen sense of smell, you would have died there!"

"No I wouldn't have. I would have used the Portkey!" she responded hotly.

"I don't think you would have," he said in a quiet, serious voice, "You would have waited for him until the last possible second, and then it would have probably been too late for you to reach the Portkey. That is the way with spells that drain magic. You begin to lose energy much more rapidly towards the end than you did when first affected. You would have lost the use of your limbs in a few more moments, and then you would be a permanent addition to that ghostly assembly….I think you recognize that I'm telling the truth. That's why you were so frightened at the thought of me growing too weak to cancel the transference spell—you know it can happen so quickly that you don't realize you're no longer able to cast a spell or to reach into a pocket…."

"Severus, please!" she whispered convulsively, and, needing comfort, reached out and grasped his hand, pulling it onto the bed with her. He did not resist, surrendering his hand to her with the grace of a lion presenting its velvet-cloaked paw. She stroked his hand and wrist gently, lovingly. They both seemed to relax, and after a few moments, Marian asked randomly, "Were you the one that brought Ms. Bear?"

"Yes," he said tersely, and for a moment seemed almost embarrassed.

"You're very good to me. I don't deserve it," she said, looking down at his hand as she lightly caressed his palm.

He gazed down at her, but finally shook himself and relayed, "Actually, I meant to tell you earlier…After the battle at the Ministry, I was summoned by the Dark Lord. He was…very angry. He wondered how word had reached the Order of the Phoenix so quickly, and decided to question me under Veritaserum."

Marian sat up anxiously, pulling his hand into her lap protectively, "Yes?" she asked.

"It worked exactly as it did during our tests. Although the Dark Lord is no fool. I think he suspects that there are things I'm not telling him. And so he has appointed Wormtail to be my houseguest once I leave Hogwarts for the summer," Snape said distastefully, saying 'Wormtail' with the same bitter inflection he used when saying 'Black'.

"Who is that?" Marian asked with trepidation.

"Oh—I forgot that wasn't his real name; he's been a rat for so long. You may have heard of him as 'Peter Pettigrew'," he sneered.

"The traitor?" Marian asked in mingled rage and horror.

Snape nodded with closed eyes, "He has been sent to 'assist' me, but it's insultingly obvious that he's been sent to keep an eye on me."

She lay back and watched him with hooded eyes, until he finally managed to find strength enough to rouse himself. He turned to her again and said, "Do you want anything else?"

Marian didn't know what made her say it, but her inhibitions seemed to have vanished along with her magical energy, "A goodnight kiss," she answered flippantly. His head whipped around and he shot her an accusatory stare, "I was just kidding," she amended belatedly.

"I do not enjoy being mocked," he said coolly.

"I wasn't and you know it. I'm just a little…off today. But I was thinking I would head home. I'm perfectly well now," she said, turning away to hide her blush.

"I would prefer if you stayed until tomorrow—just to make sure," he said firmly.

"As you wish," Marian murmured.

"Will you put the puppy back in the bed? She seems to have escaped…." Marian said, closing her eyes in anticipation of another nap. She felt Ms. Bear settle next to her, walking round and round, making a nest in the covers.

"Oh, incidentally," Severus said, pausing in the doorway, "I cast a spell on that dog to inhibit its excretory functions. You might want to remove it after you leave tomorrow. I hear it can be rather harmful if left for an extended period."

And then she heard the door close with a barely audible click, and the most exasperating, intoxicating man she had ever known was on the other side of it, moving farther away from her with each step.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13: What Marian Saw

After that night, Marian quickly regained her strength. The next day she was able to rise easily on her own, bathe and change her clothes. She wondered who had picked out the satiny green robes. She made the long trek to Dumbledore's office and the door swung open to reveal the venerable Headmaster speaking with Harry Potter, whose face was transfigured with happiness.

Before she even made it into the room, Harry had flung his arms around her, thanking her joyfully for rescuing his godfather.

"Marian, guess what!" he exclaimed, while Dumbledore looked on indulgently.

"What?" she asked smilingly.

"The Minister has pardoned Sirius! Fudge realizes that he's about to lose his position, and since he found out that Sirius was fighting against Voldemort, he's decided that admitting one more mistake would hardly make his fall from office any more humiliating than it already is. Isn't that wonderful? Now Sirius can finally leave the house and be useful again, and Snape won't be able to taunt him about it anymore," Harry said gleefully.

"No matter. There will hardly be a shortage of ammunition where he's concerned," came a cutting voice from the doorway behind her.

"Ah, Severus! So glad you could join us," Dumbledore said breezily. "I know Marian would be disappointed if she was unable to say goodbye to one that has done _so much_."

She turned to him and each silently assessed the other. He looked as impenetrable and poised as usual, and she smiled at him in relief. Severus quirked an eyebrow at her. Dumbledore cleared his throat, and they glanced up, suddenly aware that they had been ignoring the others during their own silent conversation.

"Professor Dumbledore, I just wanted to thank you for letting me stay here and not sending me to St. Mungo's. Hospitals are so horrible and invasive…" she began.

"No need to explain, my dear. I quite agree with you. But it was an honor to have you here. Especially after your brave actions in the Department of Mysteries," he answered pleasantly, but broke off when he heard Severus' soft exhalation of protest.

"Do you not think it was very brave of her, then?" asked Dumbledore disingenuously.

"It was brave, certainly. Just…misguided," Severus sneered. Harry grew very red in the face, and Marian felt sure that he was about to say something to Professor Snape that would get him into trouble. Snape seemed to have the same assurance, as he curled his lip and watched Harry like a snake with a mouse.

Marian interrupted, "Severus, we've already discussed this and put it to bed."

His eyes flicked over to hers and he realized that she knew perfectly well what she was doing, and intended to come between him and his prey. "Fine," he acknowledged flatly, after one long moment of hesitation. Dumbledore and Harry looked at him peculiarly.

"Incidentally, where was my good friend Doo-lor-ess while all these events were going down? I could have sworn I heard her dreadful heavy breathing over in the hospital wing," Marian commented with a smirk.

Snape and Harry both snorted with amusement, and then shot each other a dark glare, each angry at the other for finding the same thing humorous.

"Harry can walk with you to the gates and tell you all about it. It's quite a story, to go along with a lovely spring day. Severus, please remain. I have something to discuss with you," Dumbledore said in the kindly manner he had of had of speaking that was in no way lacking in authority.

"Goodbye! Thank you both—for everything," Marian looked meaningfully at Severus, and his eyes glittered for a moment, before she and Harry and a rather excited Ms. Bear turned and started the long trek from the Headmaster's tower to the gates of the school.

After a few minutes of companionable silence, within which they made it all the way out of doors, Harry turned to her with a smile and said, "I don't know how you made Snape back down. Normally, even Dumbledore can't slow him up once he gets going about me or my godfather."

"I'm trying to get him to work on that," Marian answered with a laugh.

"Good luck to you, there. Although I don't know why you'd even bother. He's the most awful, cruel-"

Marian cut him off quietly, "I disagree. I think he's one of the finest men I've ever known."

Harry stared at her for a moment, completely stunned and asked quizzically, "Did you come from a convent or something? Is he one of the first guys you've ever talked to or what?"

Marian laughed, "No and no. I do wish he didn't have that ridiculous grudge against you. I don't blame you for not seeing what I mean, but actions speak louder than words, and I believe he has saved the lives of you and your friends on a number of occasions."

"Maybe, but he didn't enjoy it," mumbled Harry. After a brief silence, he asked, "Do you mind if I ask you something personal?"

"Go ahead—but I reserve the right to choose not to answer," she replied, releasing Ms. Bear and watching her race about their feet, before dashing to the side of the path to relieve herself on the lawn. Marian glanced furtively up at Dumbledore's window and Harry grinned.

"Do you fancy my godfather?" he asked.

"Who? Sirius? No—not at all," she replied.

"Oh…that's really strange. Everybody is saying that you must, that otherwise you never would have done what you did. I mean, are you sure? Because, if you don't fancy him, then why did you do it?" he quizzed her, with a puzzled expression.

Marian hoped Severus didn't give credence to this rumor. Even if she couldn't have him, she didn't want the reason to be because he mistakenly thought she was after the wrong man. "I would think that you of all people would understand," she said quietly, and he slowly nodded.

"I like Sirius," Marian continued, "but it wouldn't have mattered who it was, I wouldn't be able to stand idly by while they died a horrible death—not if I could do anything about it."

Harry retrieved the puppy and petted her a few times before handing her to Marian. They shook hands and looked each other in the eye one last time before she Apparated away. They understood each other better than they had before, and Harry decided that he liked her immensely; she was a kindred spirit.

The next Order meeting took place several weeks later at Grimmauld Place, and Marian had arrived early and was listening to Tonks, Remus and Sirius talk about the battle at the Ministry.

"Marian—you should have been there. It was like a Muggle light show. All of the red and green spells flying all over. It was unbelievable!" Tonks exclaimed, using her hands to illustrate her point.

"Green spells? You mean the Killing Curse? It seems strange that there were so many arrests and no casualties," Marian remarked.

"That's right. The Death Eaters were all using the Killing Curse, but we used Stunning spells, jinxes, hexes…nonlethal stuff," Sirius piped up.

Marian didn't comment on this, instead asking in consternation, "Aren't these the same Death Eaters that have been arrested once or twice before?"

"Right. We fought several of them in the last war. And we'll be fighting them again soon, because it's not going to take them long to escape Azkaban now that the Dementors are on You-Know-Who's side," he replied.

"I don't understand….You're at war. They shoot to kill, but you toy with them—arresting them only to fight them another day. The Dark Lord's ranks are growing. You cannot afford to keep doing this," Marian said decisively.

Most of the Order members had arrived, and several were listening to their conversation.

"What do you suggest?" Remus asked, although she could tell he knew exactly what she was getting at. Remus was smart.

"I suggest a more _permanent_ solution. It won't win us the war, but thinning their ranks a little is a good place to start. They're killing our people and we're playing 'cops and robbers'—sorry, Muggle reference," Marian averred.

"We have to conduct this war with honor—otherwise, we'll have sunk to their level," Remus answered mildly, although Sirius and Tonks looked as if they disagreed.

"I don't know who started the silly lie that it's a dishonorable thing to kill your enemy. But it's ridiculous! To kill someone in combat is not the same as to murder. Remus, _they are trying to kill us_. Us-and all the people we care about. This is no way to fight a hydra. The heads are multiplying no matter what we do, but if we don't destroy at least _some_ of them, we'll be overwhelmed," she said vehemently.

"Maybe we wouldn't be overwhelmed if everyone in the Order actually bothered to show up to fight when we have a battle," said one of the onlookers spitefully. He was a short, red-faced little man whose puffed-up arms dwarfed his skinny legs.

"Back off, Trotter. You heard about how she rescued Sirius," snapped Tonks.

"Just because she's willing to go to such lengths for her _lover boy_ doesn't mean that she's there for the rest of us when it counts," the man countered, and there were several murmurs of disapproval at his behavior from those standing about. Marian saw Severus standing nearby with Arthur Weasley, and could tell they had been listening to the conversation.

Suddenly, Sirius leapt to his feet, knocking over his chair, "I better never hear you say another word against her while you're in my house! She has more courage and brains than you and all of your ancestors put together," he shouted, and the room fell silent.

The other man bristled with fury and was about to make a retort that probably would have ended with him suffering from several of Sirius' hexes, when Dumbledore called the meeting to order. Relieved, Marian shot Sirius a nod of acknowledgment and went over to the long table to take her seat.

Dumbledore stood and began speaking, but Marian sat stunned, staring at his right hand. Many of the people around the table gasped in horror as they caught sight of it. It looked charred, like the hand of a corpse after the flesh has been consumed by fire. Severus watched for Marian's reaction, and noted the same horror reflected on the faces of the others…mixed with knowledge. Marian understood that she was looking at the victim of a fatal curse, although she marveled at the skill that had kept the systemic curse contained in his arm. She didn't think she could have done as well, even though breaking and circumventing curses was her livelihood. She glanced at Snape, who looked as unruffled as ever until she took a closer look, and noticed the lines of stress that had recently gathered around his eyes. Snape was watching her carefully, and, as she met his gaze, she suddenly understood. He gave a slight nod of confirmation. Yes, it had been his magic that had saved Dumbledore—for a time. The barrier would not hold forever.

As the meeting continued, several people gave reports, and then the floor was opened to comments and questions. Marian had received many friendly smiles and nods throughout the meeting (with the noticeable exception of Trotter, who shot her the occasionally dirty look), and sensed that the other members had finally accepted her. She had always stayed quiet during meetings before, learning the lay of the land, and also because she was a newcomer and a foreigner. But she had a lot of ideas, and decided that she should share while she still had their goodwill for going into the Veil after Sirius.

So when there was a lull in the conversation, Marian spoke up, "It's obvious that the Dark Lord (she now called Voldemort this out of respect for Snape, who invariably used the title) is making preparations for war. There's no reason why we shouldn't also be prepared. I know many of you will think this is silly, but you can't help but notice that spells with fewer syllables speed to their targets faster than those with more. For instance, it is much easier to beat the enemy to the punch when yelling 'stupefy' than 'petrificus totalus'."

"Missy, I don't think we need your advice when it comes to dueling. No offense. But none of us have ever seen you fight or get your hands dirty at all, except for that rescue mission a month ago," Mad-Eye said irritably.

"Just because she isn't a fighter doesn't mean her advice isn't good," Tonks said defiantly, and added, "Go ahead, Marian."

"Thanks," she said quietly, and then turned back to the others and said in a ringing tone, "I don't understand why we're not killing these Death Eaters."

Dumbledore answered her, with a flash of annoyance, "Because we're nobler than they are. Our goal is to incapacitate our enemies, not to kill them. And also because we're an organization outside the law, and susceptible to the same penalties as the Death Eaters. We have received no mandate from the Ministry that gives us _carte blanche_, and the Killing Curse is still illegal. Besides, it has long been thought that the Killing Curse corrupts one's magic."

Marian hesitated before crossing Dumbledore, especially in his current condition, but she could be as unrelenting as Severus when it came to something she felt strongly about, so she answered his objection, "That is only a theory. And a rather cyclical one, at best. Most people with tainted magic are murderers operating outside the law. Their magic is defiled just like their souls. They use the Killing Curse. So is their magic tainted because they're murderers and evil to begin with, or because of a particular curse they favor? I don't buy the argument. But that's fine….if you don't want to use the _Avada_, I completely understand. It's obvious that the Ministry will be no great help in this war. But we should not let them hinder us as _we_ try to fight. There are other curses that are obscure and therefore legal—some requiring very few syllables and much less magical energy than the Killing Curse-that can achieve the same goal. For instance, there is a Greek curse of two syllables that targets a certain artery in the brain, causing a fatal aneurysm."

All at once, an Auror with a bristling black mustache and mutton chop sideburns yelled out, "All of your sly, Death Eater talk isn't going to help us win the war. You're just a mercenary anyway! If our side loses, you'll just move on. But this is our home. What kind of society will we create for ourselves if we start killing too? That has never been the Auror way. If we do what you suggest, we'll just end up arrested for murder," he spouted out sanctimoniously.

The debate was starting to grow heated, and several people made sounds of agreement or disapproval. Marian countered his argument, asserting "I know Aurors don't kill people—they're law enforcement officers. They have to arrest malefactors so that they can stand trial. But these are not police raids we are talking about—they're battles in a war! I know you're an Auror, but you're also a soldier in the Order of the Phoenix. We are not fighting law-breakers, but a private army, commanded by the most evil and powerful wizard to rise up in our lifetime. Just think about it—if we cast these killing spells nonverbally, there is no reason for the enemy to acquire them and begin using them against us. Our spells will speed to our targets much quicker than the six-syllable Killing Curse that our opponents will be using."

All at once, Trotter leapt to his feet, sped to Marian's seat and wrenched her out of the chair by her arm. He exclaimed viciously, "This girl must be a Death Eater. She calls You-Know-Who the 'Dark Lord' and her counsels are poisonous and immoral." She gasped in surprise and pain as he yanked up the left sleeve of her breezy, sea-foam green gown and exposed her forearm to the rest of the gathering. The skin was milky white, and nothing marred its purity. The man actually had the audacity to pretend to be surprised that there was no Dark Mark, although he had never expected one. His act was designed to humiliate her and discredit her before the other members, rather than to search for proof of her alleged treachery.

He seemed about to tear her other sleeve when a burst of wandless magic flung him backwards against the wall, which he bounced off with an unpleasant crack. Severus Snape stood staring down at him contemptuously, and the man looked up at him with beady eyes from his position on the floor, a trace of fear in his countenance.

"Trotter, the Dark Mark is always branded on the _left_ arm," Snape drawled coolly, "I find it interesting that you also moved to check the right. Evidently you don't know your right from your left, or else your next move was to try to remove her dress and search for the Mark in _other areas_….Either way, your posturing is ridiculous. Get back to your seat, and if you ever lay violent hands on a woman again, you will see what it's like to run afoul of a_ real_ Death Eater."

The rest of the Order stared at Snape in dumbfounded silence, and Moody wore a smug look on his face that said plainly, "See, he's admitted it. I knew all along Snape was the real thing."

Marian had wandlessly mended her sleeve and reclaimed her seat with the grace and dignity of a queen ascending her throne. But Trotter had partially succeeded in his aim. There was no more talk of new tactics or weapons, and the meeting was swiftly adjourned. After Marian lapsed into silence, an unpleasant idea suddenly struck her. Once Dumbledore was dead—and it would not be long-a year, possibly; someone else must head the Order. And that someone would almost certainly be Mad-Eye Moody. He had been an Auror for decades, and although he was brave, he wasn't a big believer in subtlety, distrusting those that talked strategy over strength. He hated spies on principle, and had never stopped mistrusting Snape because of the Mark he bore. In his mind, there could be no redemption for one that had once sworn allegiance to Voldemort. The moment the leadership of the Order passed to Moody, Snape would no longer have protection.

It was apparent to her that when Dumbledore died, Snape could very easily be driven into the enemy camp, forced to be a Death Eater in fact as well as in name, because the Order's leadership would no longer trust him or his information. And suddenly Marian had a diabolically brilliant idea. The Muggle electronic bugs she had been perfecting—she had been developing them to use on the children of Death Eaters, corrupt Ministry workers, and whatever enemies she could get close enough to plant them on. But it occurred to her that it would be highly useful to know what the key players on her own side were up to, in case she found herself Snape's sole liaison for the Order. Marian realized that as far as the Order hierarchy went, she was on the fringes. Because she was only called to the general meetings, and not to the special ones for Aurors and people with specific missions, she wouldn't be able to be of much assistance to Snape. But by using her new bugs to listen to all of Dumbledore and Harry's plans, she might become a contact worth having. The devices weren't quite perfected yet. She needed to spend a good deal more time on them, if she intended to fool a wizard as clever as Dumbledore.

She was roused from her musings by Snape's cool voice, "Might I have a word? Is there a quiet place in this house where we might talk? I have only a moment to spare tonight."

"I'll ask Sirius. He's been much nicer since I saved his life," she grinned.

He rolled his eyes, but the gesture seemed to be one of exasperated indulgence rather than impatience.

She entered the next room, where Sirius laughed and held a Muggle beer bottle in one hand. He acted as if he had been given a new lease on life, which, she supposed, he had. To be vindicated at last of a crime he hadn't committed must be a potent restorative. He was the life of the party, clever and charismatic, and his looks had improved seemingly overnight. Marian could say with certainty that he was the most handsome man ever to have shown an interest in her.

"Hey Sirius," she called, sidling over to him.

"What is it, love? Do you want a drink? Moony, Marian needs a drink!" he yelled, and then he added in a normal tone, "I bet you need one after that idiotic red-faced prat grabbed you during the meeting. But don't worry—Remus and I got him with a sweet hex as he was leaving….Let's just say that his bowel movements are going to burn pretty spectacularly for the next couple of weeks."

"That's evil and…completely fantastic," Marian said with a very Snape-like smirk. She wasn't above indulging in a bit of schadenfreude from time to time.

"What are friends for?" he shrugged, eyes twinkling.

"Thanks, Sirius….Oh, is this an IPA? It's nice," Marian grinned, momentarily distracted by the bottle in her hand. She suddenly recalled that Severus was waiting to speak to her, and that he was in a hurry.

"Is there anywhere in the house where I can go have a private chat with Severus?" she asked bluntly.

Nonplussed, but quickly regaining his good cheer, Sirius replied, "The library should do. Just so long as 'private chat' isn't a euphemism for 'quick shag'. This house has already witnessed enough horrors. It shouldn't be subjected to Snape's hands all over you." Sirius spoke in a humorous way that let her know he was ridiculing the very thought of her having anything to do with Snape—from his manner, he might as well have been accusing her of wanting to sleep with Professor McGonagall. And yet, there was a hint of insecurity in his mockery. He had not completely discounted what he had seen when he had surprised Marian and Snape during her convalescence.

But Marian found Snape so irresistible that she didn't perceive Sirius' true meaning. She couldn't fathom someone finding the possibility of her wanting Snape to be ludicrous. So Marian misread him completely, not understanding that Sirius' entire point was to ridicule Snape's attractiveness. Instead, she thought he was implying that she had a lack of morals, and would be the kind of girl that would take a man upstairs in someone else's house and have sex with him. Scandalized, Marian snorted indignantly.

"As if I would! Honestly Sirius, what do you take me for?" she asked scornfully. Sirius seemed pleased by her response, but someone else wasn't. Severus had come to see what was taking her so long, and had overheard the tail-end of the conversation.

At her words, Severus stopped in his tracks and the blood seemed to freeze in his veins. All at once bitterness and hurt and disappointment flooded through him. So she found the idea of touching him so disgusting? Lately, he had been lonely and sick at heart over Dumbledore's impending death and the Unbreakable Vow he had been forced to make to Narcissa Malfoy. He had been longing to talk to Marian, had wanted her comfort and support. He was so tired of his isolation, of suffering in silence. To him, Marian had represented all that was bright and warm, good and interesting and beautiful. And he had cherished a hope in his heart that she cared for him, that one day she might choose him above all others. But the scornful way she had just spoken of him had rent and mutilated those tender dreams.

He wanted to hate her, to see it as a betrayal, but her response to Sirius' comment had been natural and honest. She genuinely would no more think of kissing him than she would Dumbledore or…an inanimate object.

He speculated what it was about himself that made him so unlovable—that made him unworthy to be considered by women, and a deep hurt that had never completely healed reopened inside of him. Lily Evans had been intelligent and pretty and Severus' friend, but she had never even contemplated anything romantic with him, although he had been head-over-heels for her. And as soon as James Potter appeared on the scene, she had had no more use for Severus. There had been no competition at all. Since her rejection, there had been no one. Bitterly, he suspected that his looks had a great deal more to do with it he had supposed. In most areas, he had a great deal of self-confidence. He knew that he was powerful, knowledgeable, but apparently his cons outweighed his pros so overwhelmingly that Marian didn't even see him as a man.

Severus watched the easy manner she had with the others, how she laughed with them and joined them in a beer, and he felt a great gulf separating him from her. Like Marian, he was clever and accomplished, but she had social graces that he painfully lacked. He had thought her kindness and care exclusive to him, but he finally grasped how unlikely that was. She was a chameleon, and had managed to win over even the unpleasant Potions Master. He knew that people didn't like him, but that he was a very useful ally to have—and he made very few alliances these days. But he had warmed up to Marian and made an exception for her because she seemed to value him for more than just his skills. She had been so protective of him, so gentle. She had evoked responses in him he hadn't believed himself capable of. With her, he had been softer, sometimes even playful, and she had kindled a passion in him that he had never dreamed of feeling. Severus had iron self-control, and after thirty-five years of celibacy had never expected to feel such…desire, to want someone so much that the destruction of that dream would hurt him so badly.

Suddenly, he decided that he couldn't do this. He would not keep up this charade with Marian, now that he knew how distasteful she found the idea of him. He already had to pretend with the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters. He would not base all of his relationships on deceit. It didn't matter that she was a brilliant inventor of spells and a very handy ally to have around. The price was simply too high. And so Severus turned on his heel and purposefully made for the front door.

Marian caught sight of him and hurried to his side, looking up at him with a happy smile, with flushed cheeks. "Where are you going? Let's go to the library. We shouldn't be disturbed there," she told him.

But he merely glanced at her as though he was looking down on her from the top of a high wall and said icily, "Regrettably, I have no more time to waste tonight."

"Would you like to meet sometime during the week then? Or I could Apparate with you to Hogwarts and walk part way…" she replied, disturbed by his coldness. Something was very badly wrong with Severus Snape.

"That will not be necessary," he answered dismissively, stopping her in her tracks. He haughtily slipped on his traveling cloak and reached for the front door, never looking back, and leaving a hurt and confused Marian in his wake. Just as he was opening the door, she took several purposeful steps towards him, but then found herself pulled up short by a hand on the back of her sleeve.

"What is it with people jerking on my arm today?" she asked irritably, and watched Severus successfully make his exit before turning around to face a concerned Tonks.

"Merlin, Marian, let him go! Do you want the whole Order to know you fancy him?" she hissed.

"But something's wrong. He seems angry. And we were supposed to talk…" Marian trailed off in defeat, listening as the front door clicked shut with an ominous finality. Tonks tried to pull her out of her sudden bout of melancholy by saying irreverently, "You know how he is. He's really moody—gets irritable at the drop of a hat. He probably noticed someone in the room having fun."

"Watch it!" said Marian sharply, and then she added in a sheepish whisper, "How long have you known?"

"Probably longer than you," Tonks answered with a grin. She elaborated, "I suspected the night of Molly's get-together, but I was certain on Boxing Day, when Sirius got a little…out of hand. Snape stayed for the whole party, which he never does. He normally makes an appearance and then vanishes as quickly as possible. But the two of you just seemed, I don't know, very aware of each other. And even though my own love life is quite tragic, I'm not completely ignorant when it comes to romance. We've been friends for a while now, and it's obvious to me that when he's in the room, you're oblivious to everyone else. But if it's any consolation, I'd say he likes you back—and you cannot imagine how unsettling that is for me to say."

"Anything new on the Remus front?" she asked, more to take the focus off of herself than because she actually thought Tonks had made any progress. Remus was being strangely unbending on the subject of starting a relationship with her. He either loved her very much or very little. Marian couldn't quite make up her mind as to which it was. Nothing _had_ changed, but Tonks still insisted that Marian accompany her to a Muggle pub to talk romantic strategy with her. The evening proved to be enjoyable, and when she went home that night, she had almost managed to convince herself that nothing serious had been wrong with Severus, that he had been annoyed by some trivial thing that had nothing whatsoever to do with her.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14: Suspicion

Fall passed quickly, and Marian soon had to reevaluate her earlier conclusion about Severus' behavior. She had definitely offended him in some way, or something had happened to turn him against her. She couldn't imagine what it could have been. True, several Order members had treated her coldly after her remarks on the Killing Curse during the last meeting, but Marian sensed that Severus had agreed with her on that issue. Besides, he wasn't the sort of man to write her off because she had a differing opinion. He had already proven that he would drain himself to his last drop of magic and energy to help a friend in need. She wondered what on earth had gotten into him.

She constantly tried to catch his eye at Order meetings, but he seemed to see through her. Marian rarely spoke up anymore, disappointed that so few had been interested in what she'd had to say. The only people that approached her about shortened spells and a more lethal strategy were members that had recently lost family to Death Eater raids and wanted vengeance—the desperate, careless, hot-headed set that Marian preferred to avoid. They were too great a liability, and she didn't want to be responsible for them.

Two meetings passed with Snape masterfully evading her, and it was October before she could get more than a few disdainful words out of him. He always sat closest to the door, and left the moment the meeting adjourned. Even when she ran, he always seemed to be able to Apparate away before she could catch up, apparently deaf to her calls. His absence left a ragged hole in Marian's life. Every meeting she drank in the sight of his spare, familiar figure be-robed in black. She watched him through her lashes, still sensible enough of her surroundings to avoid giving herself away. Merlin, but she longed for him. And one day, she came up with a plan. Marian managed to get Arthur Weasley to detain him for her, and she approached warily while the two talked. Snape noticed and was obviously itching to make his escape, but had too much respect for Arthur to cut him off.

"Hello Arthur, Severus," she murmured.

"Well…if it isn't the bloodthirsty American," came Snape's mocking, caressing voice.

Wrong-footed, Marian peered at him to see whether he might be joking, but his mask was impenetrable. "Severus, may I have a word? Please?" she asked.

"I'm afraid I can't possibly find the time. Please excuse me. Arthur," he said with a nod, and began to turn away.

She stepped in front of him boldly, barring his exit and exclaimed, "Severus! Out with it! What have I done? Obviously something's wrong. Just tell me and I'll make it right."

For a moment a gratified sneer spread across his face and then he drawled coldly, "It's not anything you've _done_, per se. One day I simply realized that your novelty had worn off. I suppose that you and your ridiculous accent…bore me."

Marian stared at him, dumbfounded. "That is the single most insulting thing anyone has ever said to me. And it's patently not true. I'm not sure what you expect to accomplish by this brush off, but I know you, _Severus Snape_," she hissed, "and I know very well that you've never been bored for one_ second_ in my company. Besides, I happen to know that British men _love_ my accent, so don't go throwing _that_ up in my face."

"Still as arrogant as ever I see. How…_predictable_," he said silkily, over his shoulder as he made for the door.

"You impossible man!" she called after him in despair.

The next months passed by drearily. Marian threw herself into her work and accomplished a prodigious amount, for St. Mungo's and for her own private project. She had paled, lost weight and neglected her friends—except Ms. Bear, who was her constant companion—even accompanying her to the hospital on occasion in a protective bubble—but she achieved what she had set out to do. The Muggle bugs were finished, and just in time for the Order's Christmas party.

There had only been one other Order meeting since her showdown with Snape, but he proved to be inexorable, and, try as she might, she couldn't even get him to acknowledge her. His words had cut her to the quick, but she was wise and experienced enough to know that he didn't mean them, that something else was the matter. She didn't know why he had chosen to push her away, and was heart-broken over it, but only labored more diligently on his behalf. He had chosen to struggle down his path alone, but if he chose to do it without comfort, at least he wouldn't do it without protection.

It was the twenty-third of December, and the Order's annual Christmas party had finally arrived. She cringed when she remembered the disastrous party last year, which had been postponed until Boxing Day due to the attack on Arthur Weasley. She wondered if Snape would even show up. She suspected that he would, at least for a little while. If Dumbledore had been able to manipulate him with guilt before, he must be a million times more formidable now that he had a terminal condition. And so, for the first time in a long time, Marian took special care about her appearance, donning a dress that fell in blood-red folds, and she wove thin strands of gold into her dark tresses, braiding and artfully winding them into a lovely coiffure that glinted dazzlingly in the light of the fire. She figured that she might as well show Severus Snape what he was missing.

The moment she entered the party, the Weasley twins came bounding up to her and hurled themselves theatrically at her feet, to the general amusement of the onlookers.

"My lady! Please allow me to worship at your delicate, perfectly-shaped feet," exclaimed Fred.

"Thank you, I think….I didn't know you had a fetish," Marian said with amusement.

"I didn't until now," Fred said dramatically.

"I have dozens of fetishes. I even keep a list," proclaimed George, "and all your body parts are on it."

"That's just wrong," Marian laughed.

"But truly," Fred said, as they rose to their feet, their dignity none the worse for their little display, "You look like every Gryffindor's dream in that dress."

"Oh, I had forgotten that red was your house color," she replied.

"_Colors_. Red and gold. Both of which you are sporting to magnificent effect," he answered gallantly.

"I'll say," echoed George, "The Slytherins never had a mascot that looked like you. I bet every Slytherin male at the party is hating the Sorting Hat right about now."

"The only one here that I know of is Snape, and he _does_ look rather put out," chimed in Fred.

Marian glanced over to an alcove where he stood between Professor McGonagall and Kingsley Shacklebolt, but he didn't appear to be looking at her, although he did have a particularly sour look on his face.

Soon the younger crowd found themselves sitting around in front of the fireplace in the living room, drinking punch and telling stories, trying to forget the menace that lurked outside the walls. After a while, when everyone had gotten less rowdy, Marian looked at George and said playfully, "Would you rather go to a Celestina Warbeck concert and stay for the whole thing or accompany Mundungus to his family reunion?"

"Are you asking me on a date?" he twinkled.

"No, you git!" exclaimed Fred, "I love this game. If it was me, I'd rather go to Mundungus' reunion. It would be a guaranteed interesting time—although the Bubble-head charm might be required."

"I don't know. Chicks dig Celestina Warbeck. I bet you would meet a lot of desperate women wanting your 'cauldron full of hot strong love'," George answered, and laughed so hard he started choking.

Fred patted him comically on the back, which only made things worse, and the game continued. Some of the people (Sirius and the twins) tried to make the game as risqué as possible, but she and Remus and Hermione always managed to bring it back to the family-friendly zone. Throughout the game, Marian kept one eye out for Severus. She saw him pass by occasionally, and knew he was still in the house—not that he would deign to look at her though.

Eventually, Marian's turn came again, and she asked, "If there was a spell that permanently blocked Memory Charms, would you want it cast on you or would you like to keep the option of being Obliviated in case something traumatic happened to you later on?"

"I'd take the spell!" Hermione exclaimed, "I don't care how awful something is, tampering with your brain and trying to erase it is no solution at all."

"How about the rest of you?" asked Marian keenly, "Do you all say the same?"

"Absolutely," answered Remus, "I studied too hard to risk someone destroying all my memories with one well-aimed spell."

The rest of them nodded adamantly, and Marian glanced up and saw Severus watching. She knew he had been listening to their game—the plan he had suggested and that she had implemented. Unbidden, exultation flashed in her eyes and sought an answer in his, but when he took no notice of her, the light slowly faded. But Marian, as she sat in a circle with her friends, wandlessly cast the Anti-Memory Charm spell on each of them, one at a time. Sirius popped his head up and asked the group, "Did any of you feel that? I thought I just got hit by a spell."

"Maybe Ron just farted on you," Fred laughed.

"Or maybe you did," Ron said indignantly.

"What a witty comeback," snorted Fred.

"It's not like the accusation was terribly witty," Remus said with a grin. He was looking more relaxed tonight, and during their game Marian had seen him shoot Tonks several interested glances. She did look pretty spectacular tonight, decked out in a chic Muggle dress of royal purple, which matched her hair.

"Oi! Whose side are you on anyway, Remus?" Fred laughed.

Soon they started talking about various subjects, and Draco Malfoy came up. Harry told them about his suspicions that Malfoy was up to something nefarious at Hogwarts, and while he was talking, Marian surreptitiously took his wand off the table and began playing with it, idly pretending to admire the workmanship. With one hand, she removed one of the listening devices from her pocket, and affixed it underneath the base of the wand. It was already invisible, and with a few clever nonverbal spells, it was no longer detectable to the touch—she had used a variation of the Notice-Me-Not Spell.

Suddenly, she noticed that there was a lull in the conversation, and found that everyone was eying her with bemusement. "If you enjoy handling things when you're bored and want to play with a wand, I'd like to volunteer mine," Fred said with a devious smirk.

Sirius playfully slapped the back of his head. Marian laughed it off, placing Harry's wand back down onto the coffee table and said, "No thanks, Fred. That won't be necessary…although I'm sure yours is _just_ as impressive as Harry's."

"What? _Just_ as impressive? I think mine is a good two inches longer," he exclaimed indignantly, to the appreciation of the other males in the group.

"On that note, _boys_, I think I'm going to go get some more punch," Marian grinned, and rose to her feet.

One down, one to go. If she could just come up with a way to affix her bug to Dumbledore. The wand was a perfect place, but few older wizards would be so careless as to leave a wand lying around begging to be tampered with. She racked her brains for an alternative, mentally going through the list of Dumbledore's apparel. He always wore different robes and hats and shoes. His wardrobe was a varied as a woman's, so no clothing item would do. It would have to be something he would have on him all the time—_like his wand_. She was stymied. And then suddenly, he looked over at her and twinkled, and guilt and inspiration hit her at the same time. His _spectacles_! Of course. Much easier to access than a wand and much less suspicious. Marian had left the receivers at home, which she would place into her ears later and, if all went according to plan, she would keep them in at all times and be able to listen to every conversation either man had. Marian only had two ears, or perhaps she would have been tempted to bug even more members. But having different conversations taking place in each ear, plus the ones she would be having herself would prove overwhelming enough.

She understood that this was disloyal of her, and that most would see it as treachery against the Order and against her friends, but she had vowed to herself to protect Severus. As a spy, he was kept on a need-to-know basis, and Dumbledore decided exactly what he should hear, but things were happening now that Severus might need to know about later, when Dumbledore would be dead, and Severus would probably be an outcast in the Order, if not completely driven out.

So she squared her shoulders, put on her most charming smile and paced through the doorway to where Dumbledore was standing beside Molly and Arthur and a very irritable-looking Severus. "Good evening, everybody," she said smilingly.

"You look wonderful tonight, my dear. Gryffindor colors, you know," Arthur grinned.

"Your sons made me aware of that fact when I arrived tonight. Apparently, Gryffindors dominate the Order," she remarked.

Snape shot her a dark glance at this, but said nothing in rebuttal. "Perhaps we're more numerous, but some of our most valuable members are from the other three Houses…or no House at all," Dumbledore said, with a glance at Severus, who was currently scowling into the distance.

Fingering the tiny electronic device in her pocket, and casting a few wandless spells, Marian grasped the invisible bug between two fingers and reached up towards Dumbledore, pressing it into the cord that kept hold of his spectacles. She murmured, "You had a spider, right there in your beard, but I got it out….Sirius has cleaned out most of the Dark Magic in this house, but has neglected the more innocuous cleaning—especially now that he's able to get out and about."

Severus was giving her a shrewd, calculating look that she didn't like, but the others seemed to think she was behaving quite naturally. "Oh, thank you. My beard attracts all manner of creatures. They seem to think it a perfect place to set up permanent residence. I once woke up to find three generations of Cornish pixies nestled in my beard. I had a frightful time convincing them of an alternative…."

"Where did you send them—over to Hagrid's?" asked Molly jovially.

"No-I merely told them that _I wouldn't interfere_ if they wished to live in my beard, but was luckily able to convince them that the course they were on would never lead them to happiness and stability, and that they would do better to find something less mercurial in temperament." He looked directly at Marian as he said this, and she felt slightly unnerved, sensing a hidden message.

Then he continued in a pleasant tone, "I insisted that I would not cease cleaning and combing my beard simply because they chose to set up house there, and that they would often be experiencing floods and hot, high winds caused by something the Muggles call a 'blow-dryer'. That had them packing in a hurry, and I'm not sure where they ended up after that, although I could have sworn I recognized the head of the family peeking out at me the last time I visited the Hog's Head. A fellow there had a magnificent beard, although I have to say that it was not as clean as my own, and much wilder."

Arthur Weasley threw back his head and laughed, and Molly turned the conversation to desserts, when Marian poured herself a glass of punch and said that she had to be getting back to the living room before the children got out of hand. After she left the room, it was only a moment before she found herself gripped forcefully by the upper arm and marched into a secluded hallway, splashing punch on the floor as she stumbled along. The person holding her suddenly spun her around and backed her into the wall, and a shocked Marian found herself looking into the keen, suspicious eyes of Severus Snape.

"Severus, what do you think you're doing? You can't manhandle me like this! I just spilled punch the entire length of the hallway!" she exclaimed in frustration.

Ignoring her diatribe and eyeing her speculatively, Snape murmured softly, "I know that you are up to something, and I intend to find out exactly…what…you've been doing."

He was still gripping her shoulders and punctuated his words by giving her three slight shakes. She had missed him so much, and to have him so close to her, even though he was treating her like a recalcitrant student, she still didn't react the way she would have had anyone else dared to deal with her this way. She felt an affinity for him, and, as everyone knows, when a woman is drawn to a man, he can do no wrong, and when she isn't, he can do no right. "You're right," she said quietly, giving him an intense, honest gaze, "I _am_ up to something. But I can't tell you what it is. Not yet. But perhaps someday…."

"I'm afraid _someday_ isn't good enough," he replied savagely.

"Well, you have a choice. _Someday_ or never. It's completely up to you," she answered defiantly.

"I think you've failed to take something into consideration," he snarled, "I can get the information that you're withholding, and get it I shall, but I'd prefer not to have to do it the hard way."

"You told me you'd never use Legilimency on me unless it was a matter of life and death!" Marian accused.

"For all I know, it _is_. I'm perfectly aware that there was no spider in Dumbledore's beard. There is no telling what you're up to….I might have given you the benefit of the doubt before, but things are different between us now," he growled.

"You can say _that_ again!" Marian exclaimed furiously, "I know good and well that I haven't done anything wrong, and yet you've treated me like the dirt under your shoes for the past six months. Suddenly your interest in my doings is rekindled. Well that's too bad, _Severus Snape_-you're not going to get any answers out of this voice of mine that you loathe so much!"

His stare was dangerous, a curtain of lank hair falling across his face as he shook her slightly and he retorted roughly, "Don't pretend to be so _hurt_. We both know that you couldn't care _less_ what I think. And I'm not the least bit interested in you or your 'doings'; I only care about any half-cocked plans you may have come up with that will put the Order at risk."

"Ha! That's rich, coming from the man that recently gave me great quantities of Polyjuice without knowing what they were for, but who trusted me enough to use them wisely and well….Severus, what's happened to us? What have I done?" she asked, her voice almost breaking at the end.

For a moment, a look of agony seemed to cross his face, but before she could even be sure of what she'd seen, it had been replaced by his customary calm, invulnerable expression. Without further ado, he whispered, "_Legilimens_."

Marian had always wondered what it felt like, to have one's mind invaded. With Severus, it felt like a dance—no, a sword fight, with a very clever opponent. She could feel him searching, and she deflected him with innocuous memories, things that would slow him down, that he would be forced to examine, but that had no bearing on what he was actually looking for. It turned out that Marian was a natural when it came to putting into practice the Occlumency she had studied in books. She didn't know how long they were at it—him thrusting, her parrying, but eventually, he pulled out of her mind and stared down at her, still grasping her upper arms, and both of them panting with the exertion. His gaze was intense, a curious mixture of infuriation and…admiration.

She returned his stare, and in the back of her mind knew she should be angry—should be furious, but couldn't help appreciating his skill and appreciating…him. Having him so near after such a long time, and looking at her like that, her eyes grew large and dark and her parted lips issued an involuntary invitation. She craved him, needed him. The air between them pulsed with tension, their eyes locked—each on the brink of being swept away by a desperate passion, and suddenly he jerked his hands off her shoulders as if they burned him, and spun away from her with a swirl of his heavy black cloak, disappearing around the corner a moment later.

Several minutes passed before Marian regained enough self-possession to rejoin the party. She leaned against the wall feeling bereft, but also victorious. If an accomplished Legilimens couldn't break down her barriers, they must be formidable indeed. And she was also left with the impression that perhaps Severus wasn't as immune to her as he wanted her to believe—Merlin, the way he'd been looking at her!


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15: Turn-Coat

A week later, Marian received an unexpected visit. She returned from St. Mungo's only to find Dumbledore relaxing in the living room of her Glastonbury house, drinking a cup of tea and feeding biscuits to Ms. Bear, who seemed to be comfortably ensconced in his arms. For a moment, Marian nearly panicked, thinking that he was there about the listening device she had planted on him, but she decided to bide her time and see what he had to say.

"Well, good evening," she called in a friendly voice.

"You'll have to excuse me, my dear. Housebreaking is one of my favorite hobbies—a vice, I know, but one I never managed to completely grow out of. Please sit down; have some tea," Dumbledore said placidly, as though he had just been admitting to enjoying apple pie or long evening strolls.

"Thank you, although I have to say I don't quite understand everyone's fascination with tea. It's very popular where I come from, too—sweet iced tea, but I've never acquired a taste for it," she said conversationally, while pouring some water into a glass and joining him on the other side of the coffee table.

"I suppose you're wondering why I'm here. Regrettably, it is not merely a social call. I've come because I've obtained some information from my contacts at the Ministry that distresses me," he said, all warm concern.

"Yes?" Marian asked anxiously.

"It seems that in the next week, a bill will be passed by the new Minister that will cause all foreigners to be investigated and probably deported. Minister Scrimgeour thinks that this will cut down on Death Eater recruiting, but he does not realize the extent of the Ministry's corruption. This bill has actually been put forward by Voldemort's puppets, in order to keep the _Order_ from growing. It is not yet common knowledge, but will almost certainly be passed. You have very few options—you can go into hiding, where you may perhaps be of some little use to the Order, or you can return to the United States and leave us to our war," Dumbledore said, leaning forward intently, teacup forgotten.

"Is there no way I could remain in Britain?" she asked.

"No foreigners will be allowed to stay and work here without the explicit permission of Voldemort himself, I'm afraid," Dumbledore said shamefacedly, although his eyes held a curious twinkle, as though he already suspected where her thoughts were leading.

"Professor Dumbledore, what if I acquired that permission? ...I mean, I can either go into hiding or make overtures to the Dark Lord. I would rather stay and be of use, if it is at all possible. I would have to pretend to quit the Order of course, and avoid the general meetings from then on—it's likely we have a traitor or two- and then I would be able to tell the Dark Lord that I had never really believed in the Order's goals, but had made the wrong friends when I first came to this country." Marian stood and began pacing, expanding her plan, "I would stay in contact with those that we trust, and would still be able to do whatever you needed me to do, with no interference from the Dark Lord's minions. And he won't make me join the Death Eaters. Apparently one has to_ earn_ that honor," she said contemptuously, making it clear that she didn't think it an honor at all.

"It's a wonderful thought, but I'm afraid that if you find yourself standing before Voldemort, you will do the Order more harm than good," he answered gravely.

"I don't know about that," Marian rejoined, "I've been forced to hone my Occlumency. Let's just say that I was recently interrogated by a _very_ accomplished Legilimens."

"Why did you not inform me of this?" Dumbledore asked in consternation.

"Well," Marian hedged, "It was a rather private matter."

"Ah—I suppose Severus _would_ be the jealous type," he said patronizingly.

"I never said it was him, and what on earth is _that_ supposed to mean?" Marian asked hotly.

"Never mind, my dear. Do what you think is best. If you have indeed been interrogated by someone _at Severus' skill level_, then I think you can stand before the Dark Lord without fear of betraying us, unless he decides to use Veritaserum, which is not his custom," placated the old wizard.

"Thank you, Professor. I still feel that I can accomplish things for the Order, and don't want to be shuttled back to my own country or packed off to hide away in someone's attic," she said forcefully.

"I suspected you might feel that way. I would be of the same opinion. Good night…and good luck. I suspect that our next Order meeting will not be a particularly pleasant one for you," he said with commiseration.

"That won't be anything new," she mumbled, but said aloud, "Thank you for the warning. I know how busy you are (and she really did know, having to listen to the man's conversations twenty-four hours a day. Dumbledore apparently lived on very little sleep, and talked a great deal, so now Marian was living on barely any sleep, and felt more irritable than ever). I just want you to know that I really appreciate this opportunity."

"Very well. I fear for you, but have the feeling you would take this step with or without my permission," he answered matter-of-factly, before Apparating away with a gentle pop.

The next Order meeting took place around the end of January, and Marian came prepared for an ugly scene. Besides Dumbledore, no one else knew what she was planning. She needed her friends' reactions to her announcement to be genuine. Dressed somberly in navy blue robes with a high collar, she entered the meeting right as it was about to start and sat in her usual place at the table, strangely subdued.

"Does anyone have any announcements before we get started?" Dumbledore asked meaningfully, and Marian stood, avoiding the eyes of her friends and in a clear, ringing voice said, "Yes. I would like to formally withdraw from the Order of the Phoenix."

Pandemonium erupted at her words, people hissing and whispering fiercely to each other, and her friends gazing at her with flabbergasted expressions. After a moment's pause, Marian continued, "After all, I'm only a marginal member and of very little use to you. There have also been rumors that foreigners may soon be particularly targeted by the Ministry. I see very little benefit to maintaining my membership in this club, if it's going to cost me my livelihood and my new home."

"A _club_—she thinks the Order of the Phoenix is a_ club_! Like the Chess Club, that she can just quit when it doesn't fit into her schedule," someone exclaimed in astonishment.

"I told you she was just a mercenary," called out mutton-chop man.

"I knew all along the girl was a miserable coward. The pretty ones always are," Trotter sneered.

"Indeed?" Marian asked with icy disdain, "At our last meeting, I was a Death Eater. Now I'm a coward….Pardon me if I don't place a lot of value in your opinion."

"Enough!" called Dumbledore, "What do you all say? Should we allow her to withdraw her membership?"

Mad-Eye Moody looked to be nearly beside himself, and Snape seemed extremely agitated as well. He murmured urgently, "You cannot be serious, Headmaster. She has heard all of our plans for over a year and a half. We _must not_ let her go. She is too great a liability."

Stung, Marian narrowed her eyes at him. "I agree," said Mad-Eye, "This girl is dangerous to us. For all we know, she plans to trot right over to You-Know-Who's camp to give us all up. That would certainly safeguard her 'livelihood and her new home'," he mocked.

"We have limited options," said Dumbledore gravely, "We can either force her to retain her membership, keep her captive, kill her—which I am vetoing right now incidentally, or come up with a way for her to leave us while ensuring our secrets are kept. I suggest that we give her a choice between voluntary Obliviation and swearing the Unforgivable Vow."

At the mention of Oblivation, Marian cut her eyes over to Snape, but although his lips were set in a grim line, he made no move to give away her secret.

"Good idea, Albus. So, what do you say, missy? Obliviation or the Vow?" asked Moody roughly.

"The Vow," she answered calmly, adding smoothly, "Since you and Professor Snape seem to be my most outspoken opponents, I would like to be bound to one of you so that no one will suspect any tricks. But I'd prefer someone I feel comfortable with to be the Bonder, if you don't mind….So how about, I swear to Professor Snape and have Remus Lupin as Bonder?"

Everyone looked at Dumbledore, who shrugged and said, "That satisfies me. Why don't the three of you go to the Black library and take care of this business, while we commence with the meeting."

The three of them nodded. Remus rose silently and motioned her to go ahead of him. There was no accusation in his manner. He seemed to accept her decision without judging her. Not so Snape. He swept coldly behind the two of them, acting for all the world as if Marian's rejection of the Order was a personal slight.

When they finally reached the library, Marian pulled a sheet of paper from her pocket. "This paper contains the vows. Read them _exactly_ as they are written. Will you do this?" she asked solemnly.

"I will, Marian. Please—join hands," Remus said, drawing forth his wand and shooting an apprehensive glance at Snape. With one motion, Marian and Severus sank to their knees. Without looking at her, Severus reached out mechanically and clasped her dainty hand in his. This was the second Unforgiveable Vow he had been a party to in the last year, and he was heartily sick of them.

But in a way, this Vow was almost as painful for him as the last, even though he wasn't the one pledging it. This would mark his permanent separation from Marian. He had only ever seen her at Order-related events, and now that she no longer shared his cause, she would slip out of his life forever. Even though he couldn't have her, and had known how little she thought of him, there had been some sick satisfaction in seeing her at meetings. At least he could look at her, admire her loveliness, and later on, when he was alone in his dungeons chopping roots or walking the long dark halls of Hogwarts at night, he would think about her and pretend that things were different. He hated himself for this—it troubled him that she made him so weak.

Marian's hand trembled for a moment in Severus' grasp, and she forced herself to look away from his dark, forbidding figure and down at the faded Oriental rug they were kneeling on. Severus' disapproval was palpable, and it hurt her almost as much as the long months of being ignored by him. Looking back and forth between them, Remus squatted down, all his joints creaking in protests. Shaking the light brown hair out of his gentle, aristocratic face, Remus looked sheepish for a moment, before lifting the paper with the instructions in one hand and his wand in the other and preparing to swear Marian to secrecy. Severus suddenly interrupted sourly, "Shouldn't_ I_ be the one to deliver the Vow? The Bonder's role is merely to use his wand to join the two parties in a compact. As she is making the Vow to me, I should be the one requiring her oath. Traditionally, that is how it is done."

"Well, as a matter of fact, I anticipated having to swear the Unbreakable Vow and did a little research. Even though that is the common way, it is by no means the _only_ way. There have been occasions where the Bonder recited the Vow, especially when a person swore an oath to a representative of a body—rather than to that person himself….And as it turns out,_ I don't much like your accent either_, so Remus will be doing the honors," Marian said defiantly, staring into his furious eyes, and trying not to notice how perfectly his elegant hand gripped her own. His touch was firm, gentle…seductive.

"Fine. Hurry up, Lupin. I don't have all night," Severus snapped, glaring at Marian all the while.

"Okay," Remus murmured, and placed his wand tip against their intertwined hands. "Marian Oliver, will you swear to keep the secrets of the Order of the Phoenix, to betray none of its plans, members, or meeting places to anyone outside the Order?"

"I will," she said firmly, conscious of the band of light joining them together, and how Severus was eying her with intensity all the while.

"Will you," Remus continued reading from the sheet, "keep silent concerning anything not specified that might be to the Order's disadvantage if revealed to a non-member and also refrain from joining the organization known as the Death Eaters?"

"I will," she answered for the second time, and a second band of light circled their joined hands.

There was a moment of hesitation before Remus asked the third question, and Remus' eyes flicked to Marian's, as if asking if there was some mistake. Marian shook her head almost indiscernibly, and Severus narrowed his eyes at the two of them.

"Will you," Remus finally continued, in a voice of resignation, "swear always to protect Severus Snape from harm to the best of your ability and to keep faith with him no matter his fortunes?"

At the mention of his name, Snape's hand jerked in hers and he would have pulled away, had she not anticipated his reaction and held him in a steely grip long enough to answer, "I will," and for the third strand of light from Remus' wand to bind them together.

The moment the spell released them, Snape hissed in a deadly voice, "_What_ was that?"

"I'll tell you both more later, but right now I'd appreciate it if you kept this last vow a secret," Marian said quietly, rising to her feet composedly.

"I didn't think there was going to _be_ a later, considering the fact that you just severed ties with the Order," Severus snarled, and then he growled at Lupin, "What kind of person just blindly recites whatever is in front of them? Is there no filter between your brain and your mouth?"

"I think there's something you aren't telling us, isn't there, Marian?" asked Remus, prudently ignoring Snape's enraged comments.

She nodded, and Severus started pacing back and forth in the small area, exuding suppressed violence. Remus continued, "But Marian—that last part almost sounded like a Marriage Vow."

"Well it wasn't," she snapped, but felt immediately contrite.

He raised hands in a gesture of appeasement and said, "I'm sorry. I don't mean to pry, but it just seems a little odd that you're backing out of your commitment to the Order only to swear an oath of loyalty to Severus."

Marian sighed and said in a much gentler tone, "Look, I may be leaving the Order, but I suspect Professor Snape may be able to use an ally he can trust in the days ahead—I know he doesn't like me, but I thought it might help ease his mind to know that he has one supporter that is unable to turn on him or betray him."

"I haven't _trusted_ in your regard for quite some time," Severus sneered, rounding on her, "And after this little stunt, I don't trust your judgment either! I don't know what game you think you're playing—no _wonder_ you wouldn't let me read the vows. You set this whole thing up down to the last detail, writing the oaths in advance, getting me in here, pulling in one of your friends as Bonder-but what happens if I do something terrible? What will you do then? What if I do something that makes you hate me and yet you _still_ have to help me? I thought you despised magical compulsion. You go to almost absurd lengths to avoid it, and yet you concoct this ridiculous scheme that places you in a very dangerous, very uncomfortable position. And yet, for some inconceivable reason, you think that this…_trick_ of yours will _ease my mind_," he ranted.

Suddenly, Snape turned to Lupin and said commandingly, "You will tell no one about the vow this foolish girl has made to me tonight—for her protection. I want your Wand Oath."

Lupin knew better than to argue with Snape when he was clearly beside himself, so he acquiesced without any complaints, although he secretly thought Snape was overreacting. He would have felt treasured and tremendously honored if a woman had just voluntarily entered into an Unbreakable Vow to protect_ him_. The implications of this Vow suddenly hit him. Remus would have to let Sirius know in a tactful way that his hopes where Marian was concerned were in vain.

After Severus had exacted Remus' oath, he stormed out of the room without a backward glance at Marian.

Immediately, her shoulders slumped in dejection. As Marian perched on the seat of the nearby armchair, she shot Remus a penetrating glance, "I suppose you think that was very foolish of me," she said self-deprecatingly.

"That depends on what you were trying to accomplish," he said contemplatively, tilting his head in thought. "All men appreciate a grand gesture, and I suspect Severus does more than most. Right now, he's worried about you-concerned about the enormity of what you've done. He's used to making big sacrifices for others, but can't fathom someone making them for him. As long as I've known him, he's never even had someone do the little things for him, much less something as dramatic as this….But I think that you're on the right track. Severus is a noble-hearted man with a flair for the dramatic. Your vow revealed your character and was a declaration of your loyalty to him. He will love you for this—if he is able to let himself see the truth, instead of explaining away the obvious with half-baked theories featuring madness and nefarious conspiracies," Remus finished with a grin.

Marian looked at him in appreciation and said, "Remus, I get what Tonks sees in you. You're quite insightful."

Remus favored her with an inscrutable smile and changed the subject, "Care to tell me what this is all about—you leaving the Order?" he asked lightly.

"Come to the Burrow next Saturday afternoon and I'll explain everything," she said, and as she walked away, suddenly turned and added, "And don't tell anyone that that's where you're going. The Weasleys won't be expecting us."

Remus stared after her in bemusement. Of the two friends, Marian came across as far more conventional than Tonks, but Remus was beginning to wonder if maybe he had judged her too soon.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16: The Story-Teller

The next day, Marian opened the large cedar chest that had been collecting dust for months in the corner of her bedroom and rummaged through it, bending down to remove the heavy object wrapped in blue tissue paper. Marian brought it into her study and unwrapped it on the desk, the massy gold glinting in the morning light. It was a crown of clever workmanship, obviously of goblin-make, and studded with emeralds of impressive size and luster. It, along with several other tokens, had been pressed on her by the grateful Minister of Romania, who was almost guaranteed reelection thanks to the vast fortune recovered during his time in office.

Marian knew that the Dark Lord preferred silver and green, as they were the colors of Salazar Slytherin, but she figured that he would be fussy indeed to turn up his nose at gold and emeralds, especially such exquisite ones. And particularly once she told him that this crown had sat on the head of none but kings. She would tell him that, according to legend, those who donned it were destined to reign—which was a believable half-truth. It _was_ true that only kings had worn it, but that was because it had passed from father to son, until the wizard kings of Eastern Europe had all been destroyed when their realms had come under the sway of the dragon invaders from Asia.

Marian gathered some materials together and, with the knack for Transfiguration that made all of her gowns so detailed and unique, created a pillow of lovely ivory silk and a container in which to place the pillow and the crown. Then, donning the emerald green satin robes that had been laid out for her when she woke in the hospital wing, Marian prepared to visit the Dark Lord. He hadn't seemed like the sort of person one dropped in on unannounced, so Marian had sent a letter, addressed to Malfoy Manor, requesting a brief audience with him. The response had been a curt and ominous, "Come." And so she went, removing her listening devices before she left the house. She could not afford to be distracted with multiple conversations during an interview with the Dark Lord.

Even she knew where Malfoy Manor was located. It was one of the two or three most impressive private residences in Britain. Apparating outside the gates, she walked forward until they swung open silently. With light footfalls, and holding the crown before her as if to ward off evil, she entered the courtyard and approached the closest entrance to the house. Raising her hand to knock, the door was suddenly jerked backwards, and she found herself looking into the faces of two extremely unsavory individuals. The first man was gigantic, and looked rough and feral, exuding an odor of rotten meat that would have made even Mundungus queasy. When he saw her, his eyes lit up in an unpleasant leer that seemed full of excited anticipation. Despising him on instinct, Marian turned to the other man, who was small and round, with a furtive, nervous manner and dreadful buck teeth. As the big man prepared to stalk towards her, the little quivery man put out a strange, silver hand to block his passage.

"What's the idea, Wormtail? You know it's my duty to guard the door on Wednesdays," he complained in a low, gravelly voice.

"You cannot take liberties with this guest, Fenrir! She is here at the Dark Lord's invitation. You may take her wand, but that is all. None of your…searches," the little one squeaked, seemingly frightened that he was forced to cross the other, and shooting Marian an annoyed glance as though he blamed her for his uncomfortable position.

Marian handed over her wand, careful not to touch the meaty paw with the long, filthy nails that reached out for it. "Not so fast, pretty. What's in the box?" he leered, trying to sidle up to her for a look.

Without a word, Marian opened the lid and revealed the crown. At the sight of the ancient crown covered with emeralds, the big one practically leapt out of her way. "Well, don't let me keep her from her appointment," he muttered, scuttling away on large, oddly-shaped bowed legs.

"This way," intoned the smaller creature, which seemed to have regained his self-possession now that the evil-looking man had passed out of sight. In fact, the glimpse of the crown seemed to have had the opposite effect on him. Now he practically pranced down the long dark corridors, as though filled with a sense of his own importance. Marian found him very strange and very pathetic.

As in Hogwarts, the rumor of her arrival was spread by the wall paintings, although this hallway lacked the variety of Hogwarts. Here, the walls were covered with family portraits rather than scenes from various periods. Marian found the effect of so many cold sets of eyes disconcerting, even though she had to admit that the Malfoy ancestors were nearly all quite attractive. The hallways were spacious and had beautiful marble tile and white crown molding—where it was visible. The Manor looked as if it had been recently and hurriedly redecorated. Thick carpets covered the tile and silenced her footsteps, and dark tapestries concealed the large windows. The air in the corridor stifled her, although it wasn't from dust—everything was meticulously clean. Instead, something noxious seemed to hang in the air, like residue from a potions experiment gone wrong or relics from the lair of some sort of large, dangerous creature.

She almost shivered, but squared her shoulders and concentrated on keeping a steady, measured pace. She would not let her sniveling little guide know that she felt scared. After several turns, a door opened unexpectedly a few yards in front of them and Severus Snape materialized on the other side of it. Even in this place, he retained his usual aura of power and self-containment, and Wormtail instinctively moved to the side for him to pass. When Snape saw her, not a muscle of his face twitched in recognition, although his eyes were twin abysses, and she found herself powerfully affected by his long, burning stare, although his glance actually only lasted for a moment before he swept past them down the corridor. She instinctively knew that he had realized she was here as a guest, rather than a prisoner. Wormtail made a face at his back, obviously offended that Snape hadn't deigned to acknowledge his presence. But then he stepped forward, trembling, and scratched at the door.

"What is it, Wormtail?" came the muffled call.

"My Lord, the American is here," Wormtail whined. The door opened.

"Bring her in," called a high, stony voice that frightened her with its…inhumanity.

The room looked as if it had once been a dining hall, but the table was missing. The long, narrow chamber was even darker than the corridor had been, and Marian suddenly found the source of the smell that had been plaguing her. Winding around a large, highly carved chair on a dais was an enormous constrictor of some kind, watching her with hungry, baleful yellow eyes. At once, Marian understood it to be the attacker of Arthur Weasley in the Department of Mysteries from the year before—the snake whose venom she had in her possession.

Next to the throne stood a woman with a look on her face as hungry and eager as the snake's. She wore black, corseted robes, which displayed her pale bosom almost scandalously. The woman had obviously once been devastatingly beautiful, and still retained vestiges of her looks, although almost everything but her full lips and perfect bone-structure seemed to have been sacrificed to Azkaban and, if the reports were true, madness. Marian could see the uncanny resemblance to Sirius, and knew her to be Bellatrix LeStrange.

Next to her stood a very attractive blond man with regular, aristocratic features, although he also looked somewhat the worse for wear. His notable, silver-gray eyes had dark bags beneath them, and his flaxen locks seemed a little unkempt. Marian instantly realized two things about him. First, she understood that this must be Lucius Malfoy, and secondly, she could tell that things were not going well for him and that he was not at all pleased with the turn his fortunes had taken.

But the thing in the room that primarily captured her attention currently occupied the high chair in the middle, and fixed her with malevolent red slits that she supposed were eyes. His body resembled a human's-at least the part that wasn't covered with black velvety robes. Snape's pallor had nothing on this…creature's. He was unnaturally white, corpse white. And his nose was no longer a nose, but an almost flat piece of flesh where a nose should be, containing two slits, just like a snake's. Irrelevantly, she wondered if he had a forked tongue like a snake. Marian didn't have to wait long to find out, because soon he was speaking to her, in that high, horrible voice. Wormtail dropped to his knees and she followed his example, dropping gracefully with bowed head.

"Rise," called that chilling voice, and Marian noticed that his tongue seemed to be of the regular sort, although she couldn't fathom how his voice came out so peculiarly—maybe he wasn't quite human where his internal organs were concerned. She hoped she lived long enough to see him autopsied.

"I am honored that you would see me, my lord," Marian said courteously, and the snake-man watched her speculatively, before giving a peremptory flick of a very long, almost flipper-like hand and saying, "Leave us!"

The other three made to leave, but he called the LeStrange woman back to his side. As she resumed her place, she had the look of a puppy that had been given a treat by its master, so pleased was she to be singled out. "She is lovely, is she not, Bellatrix?" murmured Voldemort, looking at his minion.

"Yes, Master," Bellatrix replied eagerly.

"Lovelier than you?" he asked, with an edge to his voice.

Bellatrix faltered for a moment and then said, "If my Master says so."

"I _do_ say so, Bellatrix," he answered sharply, and then continued in measured tones, "You gave up your beauty in my service…but no matter. You will be compensated."

Bellatrix had looked abashed at the beginning of his speech, but her complexion had cleared up by the end of it and she had regained the avid, malevolent look she had first worn when Marian entered the chamber.

"So," the Dark Lord intoned, addressing Marian this time, "You are that American member of the Order of the Phoenix. Why are you the only foreigner to _dare_ join my enemies?" He watched her maliciously, and his snake seemed to sense his mood, inching ever closer to Marian, testing the air with its tongue. She resolved to ignore it, and not to let the animal sense her fear.

Marian realized that she had one chance to justify herself and win over the Dark Lord. So, with a calming breath, she began speaking in a deceptively straightforward manner, "My Lord, I came to Britain a year and a half ago to work as a curse-breaker for St. Mungo's. I had been colleagues with one of the Weasleys in Romania, and he had sent a letter of introduction to his family on my behalf, because I knew no one here. My 'new friends' immediately began dragging me to meetings of the Order of the Phoenix, and at the time I had no objection."

Bellatrix looked delighted at her admission, but the Dark Lord didn't move. Since he didn't interrupt, Marian continued speaking.

"I have unraveled difficult and ancient curses in many countries, yet Dumbledore never gave me any assignments save one, which turned out to be an outlandish waste of my time. His contacts in the Ministry sent me to Hogwarts to test a roomful of children's toys for Dark Magic. I found nothing, of course, and my impression of the Order of the Phoenix and its senescent leader took a nosedive. The newspapers called Dumbledore a liar for ranting about the rebirth of a legendary dark wizard, and I secretly believed them. I found the Order to be a bit ridiculous, filled with would-be Aurors. The only member that seemed like a serious person was Professor Snape, but I never put much stock in his words because he was employed as Dumbledore's Potions teacher."

Marian crafted her words carefully, ensuring that she imbued her speech with as much truth as possible. Voldemort would be able to sense the contempt she felt at times for the Order of the Phoenix, and she hoped that he would swallow the barb along with the bait. So far, he watched her unblinkingly. It was a bit unnerving, but Marian had found her stride. Even though an extraordinarily truthful person, Marian excelled at words. She had somehow always known that she had the potential to be a very clever and convincing liar. To stay in Britain and keep Severus safe, she was more than willing to put her latent ability for corruption to the test.

And she continued her performance, speaking coolly and fervently in turn. "But even though I secretly despised the movement, I thought it was harmless," Marian explained, "The Order comprised my entire social life, and so I tried to stick it out in spite of my views. It wasn't until May, when a battle took place at the Department of Mysteries that I began to reevaluate. I found that Dumbledore hadn't been mistaken about _everything_. He grasped the facts, but not their meaning. The Dark Lord _had_ returned, although it was not the calamity he had been preaching, but a monumental event for the wizarding world."

Now Marian was hardly a stranger to the standard pureblood rhetoric. Because she studied ancient things and dressed and carried herself in a traditional manner, many purebloods took her to be one of them and tended to speak freely around her, assuming she shared their views. And to a degree, she sympathized with them. It hurt her to see the wizarding world's continuous trend away from centuries-old customs in favor of Muggle innovations.

Even though she acknowledged that the change was often an improvement, it still troubled her that so many felt that the past should be discarded, rather than preserved. And she was only the daughter of a half-blood and a Muggle that had been raised in one of the most untraditional societies in wizardom. She could only imagine how people like the Malfoys must feel, raised to honor certain habits and conventions, only to go out into society and see that these things were no longer practiced or valued, and that they had been replaced with what many wizards considered foreign and inelegant changes. It was the equivalent of giving up a silver and gilt mirror for one that cost two sickles and had a plastic handle—even though the quality of the image must be much improved. And so she drew on her real feelings of frustration to camouflage her simulated Death Eater sympathies.

Marian contended, "I have been doing research since that day last summer, and have finally found out exactly what the group called the Death Eaters believes, and of the powers and achievements of their Master….And then I couldn't understand why the Order would oppose you—why _shouldn't_ a wizard superior to all others rule? Why _should_ we be governed by these weak and useless Ministries? The Ministry is a _Muggle_ form of government. As a student of history, I know that wizards have always had monarchies."

The Dark Lord had relaxed a bit and was watching her speculatively. Even Bellatrix appeared a bit mollified.

And so Marian carried on in the same strain, "For the longest time, I sought information about the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters from members of the Order, but all I heard about were alleged 'atrocities'. But once I discovered the facts, I found you to be quite merciful. A few Muggles died—inconsequential. Some wizards died—they had no one but themselves to blame. They should not have put themselves in your path and dared to oppose your ascendency to your rightful place. There are casualties upon the rise of every great leader. That is a fact—it's common knowledge. I couldn't understand the squeamishness of the Order members….But they will hardly prove formidable foes. They refuse to fight with lethal curses. If they defeat any of your followers, it is only to lock them up and fight them again later, in even greater numbers. It's as if they secretly _want_ to be conquered."

As Marian spoke, she eyed Voldemort, gauging his interest in her words. He had proven rather tough to read, but after her last sentence, his mouth formed a terrible smile, and Marian knew that she was on the right course to getting what she wanted out of him.

So she continued in a passionate strain, "I am so _tired_ of wizards putting their own interests last—the only thing more ridiculous than the Order's combat strategy is their ideology as a whole. It is as if they're ashamed of who they are—of the fact that wizards are more powerful and capable than other beings. We hamstring ourselves and give Muggles every advantage—adopting their ways and pretending that they're superior to our own. The very concept is ludicrous, but it is the creed of the Order of the Phoenix and unfortunately, the American Wizarding community. I left my own country to escape from such an…integrated society, only to find myself enmeshed with a group of Brits that espouse the same innovations. The Order members grew offended by my disgust with their politics and values, and so last night I attended my final meeting and formally withdrew my membership. I was made to swear an Unbreakable Vow as a condition of my release," she added contemptuously.

Theatrically, Marian dropped to her knees, saying impressively, "I acknowledge you to be the true ruler of Great Britain—the 'once and future king'. This land is yours by right of your merit. Now that I know by how much you surpass other wizards and see that you will soon rightfully regain your throne, I come to beg your pardon, not wanting to trespass another second in your country without your permission."

After her speech, the Dark Lord regarded her with interest, "You speak well, for an American," he hissed. Bellatrix wore a conflicted look. She also seemed pleased by Marian's speech, but disappointed that her lust for blood might not be satisfied.

"Thank you, My Lord," Marian answered, rising with elegance when he motioned with his hand.

"It is not often that I meet a woman so clever…with such poise," he said thoughtfully.

Fidgeting, Bellatrix finally exclaimed, "But Master, my _revenge_! She rescued the blood traitor Black after I destroyed him!"

When he said nothing, merely tilting his head to the side pensively, Bellatrix strode forward and violently gripped Marian's arm with one of her bony hands, covered with sharp talons that cut into the flesh.

Marian made no move to escape, but glanced coldly at Bellatrix and said derisively, "She's grabby, just like her cousin. It must be a Black family trait."

Bellatrix's mad dark eyes snapped in fury, but the Dark Lord threw back his head and laughed in a high-pitched, frozen peal.

"Release her, Bella," he said dismissively, and then leaned forward, fixing Marian with his eerie serpent stare, "I think you may have left out some details, girl—oh yes, I know all about you, although I admit to being surprised that you have the audacity to appear before me after you rescued Sirius Black. Bella here went to all the trouble of disposing of him, after all. When I invited you, it was with the intention of allowing Bellatrix to punish you for your disrespect…but I find that you impress me. Severus Snape is the only one of my servants able to match your cool head and silver tongue. I would regret it if you had to be harmed, but if you cannot explain the incident with Black to my satisfaction, I am afraid that you've left me with no choice, and I must turn you over to Bella's efficient wand-work."

Marian racked her brains. The only person she knew that successfully managed the Dark Lord was Severus Snape, so she would channel her 'man of twists and turns'. She told herself to respond as he would—fearlessly, cleverly…tactfully.

"My Lord, you were misinformed. I did not save the life of Sirius Black," Marian said boldly, deciding to see if she could get away with a more extravagant lie to save her skin.

"You disappoint me," he said, all traces of goodwill vanishing, "One of my spies related the entire circumstance of Black's rescue. He heard from Black himself that you volunteered to go through the Veil after him, and that you saved his life."

"I did not mean to disparage your spy, My Lord. He knows as much as anyone knows—even Black himself. But Black only knows what he was told-after I Obliviated him," Marian related with quiet confidence.

He looked mildly interested again and said, "Elaborate."

Marian chose this moment to open the box in her arms, and reveal its contents to Voldemort. "I offer you this gift. It is a…souvenir of my excursion. This crown has never graced the brow of any but a king. According to legend, its wearers are destined to reign."

He motioned for Bellatrix to take the box from her hands, and she brought it to him, where he looked it over impassively, but didn't touch it. She suspected he would check for curses later, at his leisure.

Before he could accuse her of trying to change the subject with bribery, Marian continued speaking, spinning the story she had concocted a few moments before, "I was not present at the Battle at the Ministry, but was called to an Order meeting afterwards. When Andromeda Black's daughter, Tonks, told me what happened to Sirius Black, I recognized the description of the Veil from an ancient text I had read in Greece, many years ago. The priceless document no longer exists, because a foolish Muggle-born researcher on staff there touched the pages. The manuscript was charmed to turn to dust rather than reveal its secrets to someone of impure blood."

Marian was rather proud of that last detail she had invented on the fly. She suspected that someone like Voldemort would appreciate it. After a pause, she proceeded with her story, "But I had managed to read several portions before its destruction, and it talked about an archway like this one that led to the legendary mountain city of Olympus. It exists in Muggle myth as the city of the gods, but it was really a society of powerful wizards that didn't believe in hiding from Muggles. Instead, they dealt with them as they wished and received their worship in return.

"I wanted an opportunity to get inside the Department of Ministries to see this Veil for myself, and the occasion was perfect. I spun an absurd story about how the other side of the archway was dark and scary and blocked magic, but it frightened the Order and I had no real rivals when I volunteered to pass through on a rescue mission. Dumbledore assigned some of his pet Aurors to escort me in my attempt to 'liberate' Sirius Black.

"Well, I went through the Veil, and discovered many wonders there. I found myself in a palace of unparalleled richness, and the wards protecting it were so powerful that I could literally feel them from the buildings. The citadel is located on cliffs that cannot be scaled, and no one can Apparate in. It appeared that the only way in was through the Veil itself—and how that archway came to be in the British Ministry is a mystery.

"As I wandered through the palace, I met no one. The place was silent, but everything was in good order and perfectly preserved. After wandering gilded corridors, I found myself in a throne room, and, as I approached the dais, noticed the crown that lay on the ivory seat. I recognized it at once—it had long graced the heads of eastern kings, but had disappeared for many a long year. Lately, my esteem for you had grown more and more, and I knew that you alone were worthy to wear it. The moment I saw the diadem, it occurred to me that if I brought you this token, you might be inclined to treat me with mercy even though I had been a member of the Order of the Phoenix. So I reached out and took it. But the moment I held the crown in my grasp, beautiful women appeared almost out of nowhere, trying to prevent the theft. After a moment, I realized that they were Muggles or Squibs; presumably they served as caretakers. Apparently, some wizards somewhere still knew of Olympus, if they took the trouble to make sure Muggles were found to take care of the property. I Confunded them and decided I had better find Sirius Black and leave."

Marian had always had a vivid imagination was now completely immersed in her own story. She continued avidly, "My wand pointed me to Black, whom I found wandering the grounds, seemingly out of his head. Immediately I detected the reason. Catching a glimpse of lotus flowers, I quickly cast a Bubble-head charm over myself and made my way over to him. The grounds were filled with the lotoi, and the idiot was standing in the middle of them."

Bellatrix could see Marian slipping through her fingers with every additional word she uttered, and, trying to cast doubt on her narrative interrupted suddenly and said, "So you Obliviated him and lied to the Order? Why should we believe that you decided to tell _us_ the truth rather than them? And what about that story you told them? It seems like it had some truth to it-I heard that you had to stay at Hogwarts for several days to regain your magical energy—you and Black both."

"You see how much magical energy you have left after about three hundred Apparitions in two days—the first several being Side-Alongs," Marian said drily, "I didn't know where we were, so we went from mountain-top to mountain-top, all the way across Europe until we made it home. That would exhaust anyone."

"Even though you discovered some fairytale city, that doesn't change the fact that you rescued Sirius Black after I destroyed him," Bella pouted.

Marian knew that among purebloods, a certain amount of arrogance was required. She had to show Voldemort that her place in the natural hierarchy was below him, but above Bellatrix. "My Lord," Marian said coolly, choosing to address the Dark Lord and ignore Bellatrix as though she was merely a wayward, disruptive pet, "If she intended for Black to die, perhaps she should have used a lethal curse. From what I heard about their duel, they sounded more like cousins at play rather than adversaries intent on killing one another."

Bellatrix made a violent motion towards her, but the Dark Lord raised his hand and she stopped mid-step.

Marian continued ironically, "But even if I _did_ recover Black from the Veil, he is only one rather sub-par combatant, a little crazy after his house arrest and _all his years in Azkaban_."

Bella's eyes blazed with fury, and Marian smirked, enjoying baiting her. After pausing to savor the moment, she continued, "He was practically in paradise where he was before, but I've brought him back and now his cousin will have the opportunity to destroy him properly. I couldn't return empty-handed from the Veil, and I certainly had no intention of handing the crown over to Dumbledore, so I had to give him his man. Also, come to think of it, Black'll probably never be the same after such an overdose of lotus fumes. He'll be a lot slower, lazier, more complacent—easier to kill….My lord, do I have your pardon, or am I still to be handed over to _LeStrange_?" she asked, imbuing the name with as much contempt as she thought she could get away with.

At this comment, the Dark Lord laughed again, and although it rang high and sinister, Marian instinctively knew that it wasn't at her expense. Fixing her with his unblinking red stare, he replied, "You have a lot of nerve, but excellent judgment….I never thought an American would outdo my own people in showing me honor. For now, you will keep your life."

Marian curtsied in gratitude, and Bellatrix was practically quaking with anger. She knew that Bella's state hadn't escaped his notice. In fact, he almost seemed pleased over taunting her, knowing that she wouldn't dare speak up again. He added perceptively to Marian, "I presume you had something you wished to gain _besides_ your life, which you could have kept had you fled the country. No, you hazarded it by coming here in the hope of achieving something else. You may make your request."

"My Lord, I ask for your permission to remain in Britain and witness its transformation under your leadership," Marian said, inculcating her demand with a hefty dose of flattery.

"I grant your petition," he replied, adding, "Your wish pleases me. I will give instructions for no one to tamper with you. You could prove useful, and if you remember where your loyalty lies, you need never feel my displeasure—or Bellatrix's."

"You are too generous, My Lord," she murmured, and then she said, "I'm afraid I would be no match for her in a duel. I've always been more researcher than…_gladiator_."

Bellatrix's temper flared up again, and it was obvious that she wanted to issue a stinging retort and her hand involuntarily crept towards her wand, but after a moment's internal debate, chose to hold her tongue, not wanting to push the Dark Lord any further. Marian sensed that she was a woman more used to answering insults with her wand than with her words.

"I didn't mean to imply anything about LeStrange here, of course. From what I've seen of her today, I can only conclude that you got the _pick of the litter_," Marian added disingenuously.

Bellatrix could finally take no more, and whipped out her wand, shrieking, "You'll regret that, you treacherous little Mudblood!"

Marian made no move to reach for her wand, merely tilting her head to watch Bellatrix with a patronizing smile. The Dark Lord seemed rather amused than otherwise. When people usually came for audiences with him, they either cringed obsequiously or trembled with fear. Few had mastered the art of appearing dignified, yet respectful towards him. And Marian's behavior towards Bellatrix rather endeared her to him, as it showed off her shrewdness and poise in comparison with Bella's uncouth, hot-blooded outbursts. He perceived all wizards as his servants, but had always preferred the clever ones. With what might have been a smirk, the Dark Lord remonstrated tauntingly, "_Noblesse oblige_, Bella."

Then, with a peremptory flick of his wrist, he added, "Leave us."

Stunned and outraged, Bellatrix rose stiffly and swept towards the door, fixing Marian with a hateful glance that promised retribution. Marian watched her dispassionately for a moment before refocusing her attention on the Dark Lord.

"Sit," he told her, in a tone that brooked no argument. So Marian approached his white, gaunt form and took the seat to his right, which Bellatrix had just vacated, and the great serpent gently slithered out of her way as she ascended the steps.

When she had arranged her skirts around herself gracefully, Voldemort, in a calm voice that made it very difficult to determine the direction of his thoughts, said, "I don't think you approve of Bella."

Marian debated about what to say, and finally settled on the blunt truth. The closer her words came to her genuine feelings, the more honest and natural she would appear and her odds for survival would dramatically increase. She knew Voldemort was famed as the greatest Legilimens living, and could probably get a surface read of her feelings without even making eye contact.

She said respectfully, "I acknowledge that Bellatrix LeStrange has famously pure blood, and that she is one of your most faithful servants. She is also a fierce and deadly opponent. For all these things, she is to be admired. However, she is also a sadist. And although people like her have their uses during the rise to power, they become a liability once you have resumed your rightful position. They're like ferocious dogs that develop a penchant for attacking humans. They're handy to have around when the government is weak and criminals abound, but in times of peace and prosperity, they become a bit of a nuisance. It is a difficult thing to restrain their constant and often inappropriate thirst for torture and killing."

"It is unfortunate that you have severed ties with the Order of the Phoenix. I suspect you would have proven a very efficient spy," Voldemort said in his cold voice that seemed to reverberate unpleasantly in her spine.

"My Lord, I'm a terrible liar. It is one of my weaknesses. I could not conceal my displeasure from the other Order members, and I turned them against me. If I tried to spy, even the ever-trusting Dumbledore would catch on in a hurry," she answered self-deprecatingly.

"I can see the truth of your words written in your beautiful eyes….And yet, for someone that claims to lack subtlety, you see much and have great discernment," the Dark Lord said thoughtfully, "Tell me what you think about…Harry Potter."

Marian kept her cool and answered, careful to tell him what he already thought, "I have indeed seen the child and spoken with him. He exhibits no signs of greatness, although he has had rather impressive luck and possesses friends more intelligent than himself. But the boy himself is no threat. The idea of him defeating you in any kind of combat is ludicrous, but it would still be well to destroy him—if only to set straight those that believe in the_ myth_ of him—the Order of the Phoenix, for instance."

As if speaking to himself, the Dark Lord muttered, "That is also what Severus says." And then he looked at her and said, in a voice he intended to be lordly and generous, but which sounded rather haughty and threatening, "I have never offered this honor after only one audience, but how would you like to wear my Mark?"

Marian dropped to her knees and said, "My Lord, it is an honor beyond anything this foreigner ever imagined. When the Order of the Phoenix forced me to swear an Unbreakable Vow that contained a laundry list of things I must not do, I agreed without hesitating that I would never become a Death Eater, not dreaming that you would ever find me worthy of such a distinction."

Voldemort looked displeased, and his snake seemed to wake from whatever stupor it had been in and glided sinisterly around the perimeter of the room. Marian followed it with her eyes.

"It is of no account," he said crossly, "although I would have liked to acquire you….But many are my friends that lack the Mark."

"Please count me as one of them," Marian said courteously, yearning for this meeting to be over. She had never wished so strongly for cold sunshine and the fresh winter wind. It was agony to stay so long in this…lair, with the enormous, man-eating creature trolling back and forth at the periphery of her vision. Even when she was engrossed in story-telling, it still lurked in the background, never letting her completely forget its presence and her situation.

Noticing her eyes following Nagini, the Dark Lord said almost caressingly, "She is beautiful, is she not?"

"A lovely, fascinating creature…until that fatal bite," Marian answered warily.

"But that's when I find her loveliest of all," he murmured, his scarlet-slit eyes glistening. Then he held up a familiar-looking wand—she had placed a listening device on the hilt of its twin. It glowed faintly for a moment, and then she heard a scratching at the door.

"Enter, Wormtail," he called, and then, turning to Marian, he said, "This interview is at an end. I will give instructions that no one is to interfere with you in any way, and perhaps, one day I will call on you to do a little research for me. Like you, I am quite a connoisseur of the clever curses of the ancients. Until next time, _Marian_."

Marian had never hated her name until that moment, when _he_ uttered it. She curtsied gracefully and backed out of the room. She silently followed Wormtail down a couple of hallways and past open double-doors, where she noticed Lucius Malfoy having tea in the room beyond. A strikingly beautiful blonde woman with the distinctive Black features sat next to him on the blue-damask sofa, taking delicate sips from her porcelain cup. Marian assumed that this was his wife, Narcissa, the sister of Bellatrix, although this woman had none of her sibling's abrasive fire. Instead, Narcissa seemed refined and ethereal, although she looked paler and thinner than was healthy. Marian sensed a desperate unhappiness about her, and, almost in spite of herself, pitied this great lady that had had her home taken over by the sinister creature that she and her proud, lordly husband called master. Narcissa didn't look at her; instead staring pensively into her teacup, but as Marian took another step, a third person became visible in the room.

With an untouched cup of tea in front of him on the coffee table, a boy about Harry Potter's age sat in an armchair, and watched Marian with wary gray eyes. From his flaxen hair and patrician features, Marian knew at once that this was Harry's nemesis, Draco. She wondered fleetingly what he was doing away from school. He certainly didn't look happy to be home. She admitted to herself that he was handsome, even with his pointed features and white-blond hair, handsomer even than his father, who was a truly impressive specimen.

This heart-breakingly beautiful teenager narrowed his eyes at her defiantly, eyes that were haunted and hardened like no child's should ever be. Even though a different color and shape, they reminded her graphically of Severus'. And then she felt a pang—_Severus_ had seen her here, and had gone off on his own to draw all the wrong conclusions. She wondered if he would care enough about what he had seen to confront her, or if he would just write her off, assuming her to be a miserable traitor, like her present companion, Wormtail.

She halted. If that was the case, Marian realized, she would never again enjoy their moments of shared discovery, or have the pleasure of hearing him verbally eviscerate her enemies with that silky voice, or see those expressive lips curl in triumph….And suddenly, a wave of terrible sadness washed over her, and the boy, Draco, noticed. His silvery eyes widened, eyes still lovely even though hollowed out with worry. Something passed between them in that instant.

Each recognized their own terrible dread in the other's eyes-a place neither expected understanding and empathy. Marian saw that they shared a driving impetus, the fear of losing the ones they loved. She nodded gravely at him, and in that moment, Marian resolved to be a friend to Draco Malfoy, if ever given the opportunity.

Wormtail noticed that she wasn't following him and halted several paces ahead, making a sound of impatience. She quickly caught up, but didn't apologize. She still felt like she was being watched, and didn't want to betray a softer, friendlier side towards Voldemort's minions that was at odds with the way she had behaved towards Bellatrix earlier. So she glided haughtily through the halls, and when she saw the unsavory-looking gatekeeper again, she quelled his comments with an imperiously raised hand and strode past, ignoring his muttered words. She sincerely hoped that the Dark Lord would forget about her now that she had _carte blanche_ to stay in England and do whatever she liked, and that she would never have to see Bellatrix, Wormtail or the stinky letch with the dirty fingernails ever again.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17: Confrontation

It was just beginning to get dark as she left Malfoy Manor. Night still came on early this time of year. And after her unpleasant afternoon, she really didn't want to be alone. So she returned home to retrieve Ms. Bear, and Apparated outside Tonk's flat. Tonks was very clever with wards, and had developed a way to allow people to Apparate into her front yard without being visible to those outside her property, while keeping the visitors firmly outside her home and the myriad wards that protected it. This came in handy as an Auror, when she received visits from rather distasteful informants that understandably had no wish to be seen.

Marian approached the door, knowing that Tonks was always finished with work by five on Wednesdays. She wondered if she would open to her, and dreaded the disgust and disappointment she would see in her friend's eyes—after the day she had had, she didn't think she'd be able to take the rejection.

Tonks answered at the first knock and surveyed her shrewdly, before beckoning her inside.

"Okay, what's the deal? I know that you didn't run off on the Order—after coming to England specifically to fight You-Know-Who, I find it a little hard to believe that you got cold feet. We're supposed to be friends, so tell me what's going on," Tonks demanded, with hands on hips and a tilt of her (now dirty blonde) head.

Marian sank into a chair and said gratefully, "It's nice to know that somebody can read between the lines and doesn't think I'm a completely useless, treacherous coward."

And so Marian told her everything, from her visit from Dumbledore to her decision to stay in Britain and help out to her visit to the Dark Lord today. "That reminds me—I ran into your aunt Narcissa today and her husband and son," Marian added as an afterthought.

"Now that their beloved master is using their house as his headquarters, they must be strutting about like the white peacocks I've heard they've got," Tonks said with a brittle laugh.

"Actually, no. They look incredibly miserable. I think they would defect if they could. Even their little boy has been dragged into it," Marian responded thoughtfully.

"It's odd that Draco was there. He's supposed to be in school," Tonks commented, eating a crisp.

"I know. And he didn't look at all happy to be home. He had a look on his face that I never expected to see on a child—he carries a terrible burden. His parents ought to be horsewhipped for getting him involved," Marian answered, with unexpected savagery.

"He was always a spoiled, arrogant little creep. It's difficult to imagine him the way you describe him, but it makes me sad. Narcissa and Lucius always doted on him, and if You-Know-Who is embroiling their son in his schemes—and it sounds like he is-then I imagine they _do_ want to defect. Too bad it's impossible," Tonks replied, genuine regret coloring her tone.

Digging into the bag of crisps herself (Marian would always secretly call them 'chips'), she suddenly asked, "Why is it impossible to defect? Has no one ever done it before?"

Tonks laughed, "Plenty have tried. Remember Igor Karkaroff? Well, he didn't get very far and _he_ had riches and connections. Most don't survive on the run even as long as he did. And it's not even that You-Know-Who bothers sending people to hunt them down. He has too many other things on his plate….The problem is the Dark Mark. Once anyone has been branded with that Mark, they are linked to the Dark Lord. He can access that link whenever he wishes. He may not be able to force them to return to him, but he can certainly discover their whereabouts. Remember, all Death Eaters have to do is touch the Mark with their wands and they are instantly brought wherever he demands (as long as there are no Anti-Apparation wards in place)—without knowing their Determination, Destination, etc."

"So if someone could discover a way to get rid of the Dark Mark, then many more might defect?" Marian asked curiously.

Tonks laughed and retorted, "Look, I can see where you're going with this, and let me tell you, plenty of people have tried it. But I think that even if there were a way to get rid of the Dark Mark, few would take it. You-Know-Who is too powerful now. They're too scared of his revenge, and his arm does reach farther every day. Your energy could be better spent elsewhere."

"You're right, of course," Marian answered, shaking herself to dissipate her train of thought, "but it might make an interesting side project…."

"That reminds me," Tonks said, changing the subject suddenly, "The weirdest thing happened today. I stopped by Sirius' earlier to drop something off, and I caught Mundungus trying to rob the house. He was about to Floo away with his bag of loot when I surprised him."

"You're joking!" she gasped, "But—it's the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. I can't believe that Dung would be that brazen. What did you do?"

"I completely lost my head and started yelling at him, but then he spun around with his wand already in his hand and cast an Obliviate. For a minute, I just stood there, and then he vanished into the fireplace….But the thing that's weird is that I felt the spell hit me. It was a direct hit too. But it didn't work at all. I just stood there expecting the momentary fuzziness that indicates a memory change, but it never came," Tonks explained, gesticulating with chip in hand.

"Are you sure? Maybe that's just what Dung _wants_ you to remember. Maybe something _else_ happened that you forgot," Marian said, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

"Eww! Don't even joke like that! You'll give me a complex. No, I'm sure the spell didn't work. Either Dung's losing his touch or I just got really lucky," Tonks said with a laugh. Marian just smiled a secret smile.

The rest of the week passed without incident. Every night, Marian arrived home from work expecting to find Severus waiting there to confront her, but he never came. She tried not to be devastated by the fact that he cared so little about which side she was on. And Saturday, she Apparated to the Burrow to give her explanation to her friends. It would feel good to have people believe in her again—besides Tonks and Dumbledore, of course.

When she arrived at the edge of the lawn, Sirius pushed himself off the tree he had been leaning against and approached her with his sinful, easy smile. "What are you doing here?" Marian asked in surprise.

"Remus told me to come. He said that you were going to come clean to everybody about what you did at the Order meeting the other day," Sirius answered, adding, "Remus, Tonks, and most of the Weasleys are inside. I figured _I'd wait for you_."

Something about the way he delivered his last sentence troubled Marian, but she affected a friendly grin and led the way to the house. She feared a cool reception, but needn't have worried. Molly raced up to her the minute she arrived and exclaimed delightedly, "Marian's here! We can finally find out what's going on!"

Marian smiled tremulously at the group, and caught Lupin's eye. He raised a brow in question and she suddenly grew businesslike, "I think we need to Floo-call Professor Dumbledore's office. He will tell you that I'm still in his service, although it doesn't seem like it right now."

And as Arthur retrieved the Floo powder, she explained briefly about the law the Ministry had been about to pass. "She's right," Arthur said quietly, "It will be enacted Monday. I heard about it earlier from Shacklebolt."

A few moments later, Dumbledore's hoary white head appeared in the flames, bright eyes twinkling behind moon-shaped spectacles. "How are you? Molly, Arthur—there seems to be quite a gathering," he remarked with a knowing glance at Marian.

"Er, yes, Headmaster. We know how busy you are and don't want to keep you. We just needed you to corroborate Marian's word that she is still an authentic member of the Order," Arthur said, looking rather apologetic.

"Oof—my knees aren't what they used to be," Dumbledore murmured with a self-effacing smile, and added, "But Marian is certainly still an Order member. You can trust her just as you used to. I'll leave it to her to explain the situation. I'm afraid I have an appointment in just a few minutes."

"Goodbye, Professor!" they called, and, with a smile and a final twinkle, he was gone.

Marian breathed a sigh of relief, and explained the situation for the second time. At the end of her story, she added, "Only the most trustworthy members of the Order know that I'm still in. That's why I can no longer go to general meetings. As far as the masses are concerned, I've defected. From the way the Dark Lord was speaking, he has spies in our camp."

"You mean Snape?" asked Sirius with a trace of malice.

"No—I think there must be others. He said something about someone talking to you and finding out the details of your rescue from the Veil firsthand. I hardly think you and Severus had a heart-to-heart about it—or did you?" she asked sardonically.

Sirius bent his head forward in thought, perfect locks falling over his perfect cheekbones. He said distractedly, "No. Not him. But all kinds of people were coming up to me asking about the story, and lots of people that didn't ask still overheard me tell it. So I'm afraid that lead won't help us sniff out any spies."

"I really didn't think it would," Marian said, giving a comforting smile in an attempt to mitigate her words. Needing to make sure there was no misunderstanding, Marian added, "But anyway, only the people in this room—and Dumbledore—know that I'm still in. So please don't tell anyone else—except I don't mind if the rest of the Weasleys, Hermione and Harry know. And I think Dumbledore is going to tell Mad-Eye and McGonagall."

Sirius' face suddenly blossomed in a devious grin. "So Snape doesn't know. He must have gotten quite the shock when he passed you in the hall at You-Know-Who's….He's not in the need-to-know group, is he?"

Marian stiffened and replied coldly, "He doesn't know yet, but I certainly have no problem with him finding out. If anyone can keep a secret, it's him."

"So you're not going to tell him?" Sirius prodded.

"And just _how_ am I supposed to manage that? I suppose I could stroll up to Hogwarts and get Dumbledore to let me in, and then I could go wait for Severus in his chambers. Or maybe I could hang out in the halls of Malfoy Manor and hope that he makes another appearance," she retorted snappishly and then added apologetically, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be rude. I've just felt a little out of sorts this week is all."

"That's okay, Marian. If you'd like, I could come over and cook you dinner, and you could relax in the quiet," he offered casually—a little too casually.

Marian gave him an odd look and said lightly, "That's really kind of you to offer, but Molly cooked a delicious meal for everyone, and I'd hate to miss it. I can feel my bad temper passing off already, and will do my best not to ruin the rest of the party."

Fred and George suddenly came up behind Sirius and threw their arms around his shoulders. They had been quiet for most of Marian's visit, preoccupied with the plans for some new product. George gave Sirius a look of mock sympathy and said, "Tough break, mate. Looks like she would rather stay here with _us_ than go be alone with _you_."

Sirius laughed and messed up their hair, but it occurred to Marian that his laughter sounded a bit forced. The rest of the evening passed uneventfully, and Marian forgot her troubles for a while, although she noticed that Remus and Sirius seemed to have had some sort of altercation at one point. She saw them come inside the house together, and neither looked very happy with the other, but she hadn't been able to discover what it was all about.

What had actually happened was this: Sirius sidled up to Remus and murmured, "I think I'm going to ask Marian out. It seems like she's forgotten the unpleasantness from a year ago. Besides, she took a pretty big risk saving my life, so she must care about me, at least a little."

Remus pulled him aside and they trudged out to the garage together. He turned to Sirius and said, "Look, I know that you like Marian, and I don't blame you. She really is special. But before you sink any deeper, I should warn you that her heart is bestowed elsewhere."

"And just how do you know this?" Sirius asked, dark eyes snapping dangerously.

Remus ran a hand through his shaggy locks, streaked with gray. "Sirius, it doesn't matter how I know. I can't say—alright? I _know_ that you have a talent for getting any woman you want, but Marian is in love with someone else and you ought to respect that. Just let her go," Remus pleaded.

Now thoroughly infuriated, Sirius exclaimed, "So you _can't_ say who it is! Maybe _she_ doesn't love anybody, but you want her for yourself and are trying to edge out the competition —after all, you always did think you were too good for my cousin," he finished sneeringly.

"You have it all wrong, Sirius! Look at me—I'm your best friend. I wouldn't betray you that way. But you know that I've always been perceptive—just trust me here. There's someone out there that she would do anything for—and no, he's not your equal, although he's not the sort to trifle with….Besides, you're very wrong about how I feel about Nymphadora," he added quietly.

"If that's the case, then tell her! I'm sick of seeing her with mousy brown hair because _you_ break her heart again and again. And as far as Marian goes, I believe that you really have seen something that you think indicates that she's in love with another man. I thank you for the advice, but it's not going to cause me to suddenly drop out of the race. You know that I never back down from a challenge. This _mystery man_ just makes it all the more interesting. Until she's married, she's still fair game. After all, women are such changeable creatures," Sirius responded confidently, quickly regaining his good humor. Sirius had a quick temper, but it never took long to blow over.

Remus just shook his head sadly and followed Sirius back into the house, giving one final word of caution, "You do what you want, but Marian isn't your typical girl. She has very definite ideas about what she wants, and she seems to have found it—him, I mean. Just be careful. Her happiness is on the line."

"So is mine," Sirius muttered over his leather-clad shoulder.

Marian spent the rest of the weekend brainstorming on a new project and eavesdropping on Dumbledore and Harry Potter. Every now and then, one of the two would have a conversation with Snape, and then she would drop whatever she was doing to listen to the silky tones of his voice, which sounded very far away and seemed to mock her with their faintness. Marian was still playing about with Portkeys, but, since her visit to Malfoy Manor, had been toying with the idea of removing the Dark Mark.

She knew better than to make it her chief priority, but she expected that someday the war would end, and that Severus probably wouldn't want that ghastly reminder of his service under the most evil wizard to rise up in recent memory. Marian still feared for his future. She knew that Dumbledore's death was imminent, and constantly worried about Severus' position. If he was forced out of the Order of the Phoenix—which seemed likely, and if he survived the war—and she intended to do her damnededness to see that he did-then he would probably be tried as a war criminal. Having no Dark Mark would go a long way towards pleading his innocence. He could admit that he had _had_ the Mark, but would be able to say that it disappeared after Voldemort's death (which Marian believed must happen for the war to really be over), unlike those adorning the _real_ Death Eaters. The Wizengamot would surely believe that he must not have truly been one of them, if his was missing and the others still sported theirs. It would be even more convincing if Marian could remove the Marks of a few disaffected Death Eaters' as well—like Draco Malfoy's, and possibly his mother's. His father's—probably not.

Monday morning found Marian back at St. Mungo's. She had cleared up dozens of difficult cases for them, and was on excellent terms with the administration. Today she had a few ideas to run down in their massive staff-only library. Whenever Marian came up with a new scheme, she had immense difficulty concentrating on anything else before at least checking the feasibility of her new idea. And so she had entered the vast, nearly empty library in the hopes of finding useful information. For some reason, the St. Mungo's library was almost always deserted. Apparently, mediwizards weren't big on research once they finished medical training. Or perhaps they ordered books and had them delivered to their offices.

After a while, Marian betook herself to the archives, a small room filled floor to ceiling with ancient manuscripts, except at the far end, where a somewhat unexpected stained-glass window graced the narrow wall. Marian loved this room; it reminded her of a Muggle chapel. Time always seemed to stop when she was there. She spent hours rummaging, laying parchments out on the table and leaning over to peruse them-to sort some, return others, and retrieve more. Marian did this over and over, taking notes as she went along. She heard the door click shut, but paid no attention, concentrating on scanning what she had just laid out.

Marian was deep in thought, when someone said softly, "You must know that you're playing with fire."

Distracted and thinking about the Dark Mark, she muttered, "Fire, no. Even though it burns, in this case, that certainly isn't an indicator of fire."

As soon as the words left her mouth, she came back to the present with a jolt. Her head snapped up and she gasped, "Severus! How did you get in here? No one gets in without a badge!"

He sneered at her and replied coldly, "That's completely irrelevant—although I will say that the security was hardly a challenge….I came here for the_ truth_, girl. Although I completely grasp the difficulty I face in trying to glean facts from a treacherous little liar that has betrayed her cause and her…friends."

Hurt by his cruel words and the disdainful way his bottomless black eyes surveyed her, Marian placed a hand on her hip and responded cattily, "Why, I expected my greatest detractor to call me to account _days_ ago. What happened, Dumbledore wouldn't give you the time off?"

Marian had removed her thick robes and hung them over the back of a chair when she'd entered the small space, and was clad in Muggle fashion. She and Tonks had planned an excursion into Muggle London for dinner. She wore a burgundy cashmere sweater that hugged her curves in a way Severus found absolutely sinful, and a pair of jeans—an article of clothing much maligned by him in the past, but that was before he'd seen it on her. When Snape had entered the room several minutes earlier, he'd closed the door, placed a Silencing charm, and warded them against intrusion. Then he had stood waiting for her to acknowledge him, but she was far too wrapped up in her work, and the minutes had ticked by.

He had watched her as she gazed at the parchments littering the table. In her wine-red sweater, she was the only colorful object in the room, highlighted like a rare jewel by the rays of the setting sun sparkling through the stained-glass. Forgetting his anger, his hurt, his duty for several minutes, he had gazed upon her with an awe that bordered on idolatry. Severus felt he would never tire of looking at her. To him, the twin arches of her brows were perfect, and the translucent violet lids of her eyes, delicately edged by long dark lashes seemed almost too lovely for this earth.

Finally, he had spoken up, although he had enjoyed watching her pore over the manuscripts, observing how baby-fine dark tendrils tantalizingly escaped from her chignon and curled softly around her temples, sometimes brushing against her cheeks and threatening to obscure her view of the documents. But he only had a short window in which to wring the truth out of her, and he suspected he'd need the entire time.

And now that she was aware of his presence, and glaring defiantly back at him, he thought she looked even more beautiful than she had a moment before. Her cheeks were rosy with anger and the dying light of the sun, her full lips pouted in fury. Marian's aqua eyes shimmered like the tide, conflicting emotions seeming like shadows just under the surface of the water. He had always loved her eyes. There was so much life and color in them—they were so different from his, which, to him, denoted a lack of the good and the beautiful. Black is the absence of light after all, and his were black as the pit. After a moment of silently contemplating her, he mused softly, "I don't understand. You seem so wholesome, so innocent…but your heart is one of the darkest and most manipulative I've ever come across."

Marian stared into his eyes, which had seemed vulnerable for a moment but were now quite stony. She saw no pity in his gaunt, angular visage, and her heart throbbed with misery, but she decided to make the best of the situation.

"None of the Weasleys thought I had gone over to the Dark Lord. Tonks didn't believe it—or Remus or Sirius. You're the only non-acquaintance to believe me capable of such a betrayal, and I find that somewhat shocking considering the oath I swore to you!" she shot back.

"Oh yes, you have them all wrapped around your little finger. But I've seen you as you really are. If you'll betray a friend, you'll betray your side," Severus sneered.

You're wrong about me, and I'm going to make you see it," she responded defiantly. His lips quirked in disbelief, and she continued hurriedly, "Let's make a deal—I'll tell you everything you want to know, but in return, I want you finally to admit why you think so little of me. _What_ did I do? And don't give me any more tripe about how I _bore_ you. If that were the case, you wouldn't have completely turned on me. I've offended you, and I need to know how. After all, every defendant has the right to face her accuser—it's the core of the justice system. And while we're on that topic, whatever happened to 'innocent until proven guilty'?"

"You're not in court, you ridiculous girl. And I don't need to _prove_ your guilt—I witnessed it. Just drop the issue and save yourself the humiliation," he said in a silky, dangerous voice.

Completely ignoring him, Marian argued stubbornly, "It's a good deal. You might be able to get something out of me via Legilimency, but you might not. It didn't work out so well for you last time, and we both know that that's really your only other option—unless you plan to use torture, which I wouldn't advise….Come on, what man living doesn't enjoy airing his grievances?" Marian asked rhetorically.

After a long calculating gaze, he murmured, "Very well."

"Did you ward the room?" she questioned.

He shot her an ugly look. "What about against Animagi?" she prodded.

"That was the first thing I warded it against. You've forgotten my _houseguest_," he spat bitterly.

And so she explained about the Ministry's plan to target foreigners and told him that Dumbledore could verify the truth of what she said. She swore she was still an active, though secret, member of the Order, and named the names of everyone that knew about her continued loyalty. Severus said nothing, and she assumed that his pensive attitude indicated that he trusted her at least a little, although she had no doubt that he would immediately return to the school to verify everything she'd said. And then Marian explained about her visit to the Dark Lord and all the things that had happened in Malfoy Manor, including the elaborate lie she had told about the Veil. Severus listened carefully the whole time, only interrupting once to mutter agitatedly, "Silly girl! You're in way over your head."

Marian ignored him and continued her story, while he stalked back and forth in thought, full of furious energy. Watching his lithe, whip-like figure pacing, the room suddenly seemed much too small and warm to Marian. Severus had thrust his long pale hands into the pockets of his robe, and she strongly suspected that he was clasping his wand in his unrest. She had seldom seen him so uneasy. Normally, he controlled his emotions so well that one could read him about as easily as a marble statue.

Finally she finished, and he spun to face her and asked roughly, urgently, "Why? _Why_ did you do that? I have twisted my reports for _two years_ to hide you from the Dark Lord. I never mentioned you, your intelligence, your usefulness. And you've gone and rung his front doorbell! You delivered yourself up to him to no purpose! You could have left the country. _This is not your war!_ Do you think the Dark Lord will just _forget_ about you? Your little performance assured you a prominent place in his thoughts. He mentions you constantly! He has _already_ interrogated me concerning you, wanting to know why I never mentioned such a 'clever, accomplished witch'."

Severus trailed off, breathing harshly, anxiety etching deep lines in his angular face.

Speaking quietly, but fervently, Marian responded, "I _had_ to stay in Britain. I came here expressly to volunteer my services for the war. I wasn't about to turn tail at the first sign of trouble, no matter what _you_ thought."

Severus was growing more upset by the minute at Marian's haughty disregard of his complaints. He wanted to break through her cool composure and force her to see reason.

"Let's get something straight, girl," he hissed, clutching her shoulder with one hand and getting very close to her face, "Everyone has treated you like a little princess, and so now you think you can control the Dark Lord as easily as you manage Black and all of your other admirers. You may have won this round, but the Dark Lord will get wise to you in time—besides his _own_ unparalleled knowledge, power and cleverness, he has a whole army of operatives that he can send forth to unravel your alibis. Some of his minions are slavish idiots, but others are like me. Many occupy very high places in the Ministry. He can afford to investigate your past, probe your former choices and affiliations, and scrutinize each and every one of your lies—of which there are many.

"You are _careless_. You will be _discovered_. I am an accomplished Occlumens and know the Dark Lord as well as anyone living, yet I'm still filled with dread before each of my meetings with him. One stray look or comment, some innocuous person's observation, another spy's report, a contradiction or an improperly crafted lie—any of these things will lead to a death so hideous it doesn't bear contemplating. And now you run the same risks, and have none of my experience to fall back on. You have your quick wit and your charm, but the Dark Lord will soon have the measure of you. You _must_ leave here—and thank Merlin that you weren't able to receive his Mark! If you_ stay_, you will be _caught_, and when you are, I shudder to think of what will happen to you. You're a young, beautiful woman—your fate would not be as merciful as mine."

"I know the risks," she said softly, rebelliously, "But I have safeguards against such a fate if I am captured. I fear none of the Dark Lord's _slaves_. Even as a prisoner, none of them will ever touch me….Besides, I don't expect you to understand, but I have unfinished business here. And Dumbledore thought it would be alright…"

"_Dumbledore_! Dumbledore doesn't care about you!" he exclaimed.

"Oh, and _you_ do?" Marian interrupted sarcastically.

He ignored her outburst and continued. "You're a pawn—you're cannon-fodder to Dumbledore. He would rather keep you here to become a distraction for the Dark Lord, even a momentary distraction, than to send you home to safety and lose you to the war effort," Severus snarled, giving her a shake or two for good measure.

"And besides," he continued ferociously, "Somehow I doubt this was Dumbledore's idea. You always do whatever the bloody hell you want to do, and won't listen to anybody else. Not even Dumbledore can make you see reason, you stubborn, impossible girl!"

Irritated at being chastised like a student, Marian latched onto his last comment and snapped, "Why do you keep calling me 'girl'? I'm not a child."

"You practically are," he returned hotly.

"I'm not much younger than you, _Professor Snape_, unless you only graduated with Remus because you were_ held back_," she taunted.

Before he could blister her with invective, Marian hurried on, moderating her tone slightly, "But never mind that now, Severus….We had a bargain. Tell me what's come between us. We used to be allies…friends. My conscience is clear where you're concerned. Whatever it is, I'm sure it's only a misunderstanding. Just tell me, and I'll explain it away."

He gave a short, bitter laugh and said, "That's the problem. I'm sure you _can_ explain it away. As far as I know, you've never been at a loss for words. I think you could trick a saint into worshipping the devil. If you can make the _Dark Lord_ believe in the Greek gods, you can certainly craft a story that will misrepresent _my_ grievance. I'm sure your lie would be so clever, so convincing that I'd believe you and belie my own eyes and ears."

"Oh, Severus," Marian murmured in dismay, "Give me a chance. Your accusation is a bit ironic, considering that you're a _double agent_. I'm not one-tenth the trickster that you are. And for what it's worth, I've _never_ lied to you. Not once—not even by omission. I certainly don't plan on starting today."

He eyed her as though he wanted to dispute her word, but instead began speaking dispassionately; relating what he had seen the night of the Christmas party—reminding her of the words she had spoken to Sirius, words that had stabbed his heart every day since she had uttered them.

As he wrapped up his short narrative, in a carefully emotionless voice, he added, "Of course you're not _attracted_ to me. I never dreamed that you were. That is irrelevant. The point is that we were friends—or at least allies—and you turned on me when you though I wasn't around and mocked me before my worst enemy."

"_Mocked_ you? What on earth are you on about?" Marian exclaimed in perplexity.

He rolled his eyes, wishing he had kept silent. He felt his dignity suffer more and more the longer they discussed this; but, in for a sickle, in for a galleon. He decided that he might as well make himself perfectly clear, since they had already broached the subject.

"Black's comment was meant to disparage me. From his manner, he might have been asking you if you were headed for a tryst with Umbridge. His whole point was to highlight my undesirability before his _fans_. And you-you played right along with your contemptuous rebuttal. Jeering at me and acting as though touching me would be the most distasteful thing in the world. _'As if I would—Honestly, Sirius, what do you take me for?_'" Severus mimicked cruelly, capturing her comment verbatim.

Marian gaped at him in shock, but on a roll, he continued, although his words were no longer deadpan and controlled. Now they poured out of his mouth in a torrent of pain and bitterness, "I have _no doubt_ that your answer revealed your true feelings about me that day….But I just want to know why you had to choose_ that_ time of all times to tell the truth! You're not some ingénue. I have ample evidence that you don't always say what you mean—why couldn't this have been one of _those_ times?"

Severus fixed her with a dragonish glare that dared her to contradict him. Marian groaned in exasperation and answered, "It wasn't about you at all! He was accusing me of being a…a slag, insinuating that I was the sort of woman that didn't go into libraries with men to talk, but to have sex. That was what my 'contemptuous rebuttal' was denying-not that there's anything wrong with _you_, but that I don't engage in casual sex—with _anyone_."

For a moment, there was a flicker of something like trust in his ebony eyes, but suspicion quickly extinguished it. Marian paused for a beat, and could tell he didn't believe her. Severus had stopped pacing several minutes before, and stood across from her, with folded arms and narrowed eyes.

She decided to try a little harder, "You _know_ that I don't think so little of you! Don't you remember that night two years ago when you pulled Sirius off me? He was angry and yelled that you and I would be perfect for each other. Recall what I said? I told him _'I could do worse'_—and he knew I meant him."

Severus broke in nastily, "Yes, but that was a long time ago. Just as I suspected, he's managed to worm his way back into your good graces. He had just made a great show of knocking over his chair and standing up for you to that cretin Trotter. You were feeling _grateful_."

Growing frustrated, Marian combed her tendrils back with her fingers and said, "I wish you had a little faith in me….Now that I think about it, you _may_ be right about Sirius' intentions. That interpretation of his comment didn't occur to me at the time, because I was too sensitive and focused on myself...Another reason I missed the meaning is that I don't see you as being undesirable."

He scoffed. Marian looked away as she said this and hurried on, "I assumed Sirius was ridiculing my habits, but he may very well have been mocking you. It_ is_ one of his favorite things to do, I suppose. But you _have_ to believe that I didn't pick up on it! I would sooner have cast the Cruciatus on him than collaborate with _him_ in ridiculing _you_."

Severus looked torn. They stood opposite one another, each rigid with suppressed emotion. When he said nothing, Marian threw up her hands, "What can I say, Severus? What words would you believe? What answer would you accept?"

Another man would have happily believed Marian's explanation. Sirius would have accepted it, or one of the Weasley boys-but Severus was a man approaching middle-age, and as far as he knew, no girl or woman had ever wanted him. He had never been loved or desired, and had spent his formative years being cruelly mocked for his ugliness by his father and the Marauders. The hurt and self-doubt had a permanent hold on him, even though most of the time he was unaware of their existence. But he was too wary to trust, to open himself up to further mockery, future blows that would prove even more crushing. And so he answered cagily, "Nothing….There's nothing you can say to convince me. Words can't make it right."

They had been standing very close, the tension pulsing between them, when, without warning, he suddenly reached towards her face. His hand hovered hesitatingly over her lips, and he met her startled gaze with a strange glint in his eyes. "I wonder if your mouth is capable of truth," he muttered, eying her plump, parted lips hungrily. Unable to resist his magnetism, Marian brought one trembling hand up to his pale, hollow cheek.

She murmured breathily, "Nothing else—for _you_….Let me _show_ you exactly how much you disgust me…how much I don't want you."

Before he could resist, she gently guided his face down to hers, twining one arm around his neck and into the silk strands of his hair, and the other to his broad, cloth-covered shoulder-and then they were kissing. And it was rapture and madness and glory. He never even thought of resisting her, was completely incapable of cold calculation. For far too long he had adored her in secret, yearning with all the desire of his soul for the feel of her soft, pliant body in his arms, for a kiss….The moment her full, delicate lips touched his, he was lost, hungrily kissing her back for everything he was worth. It didn't matter that they were both inexperienced. With each other, it was—magic.

Merlin, but Molly Weasley had been right about him! Marian had never dared to imagine that such rapture could exist, that this cool, untouchable man could have such wells of passion. In his intensity, he seemed more than a man—he was an untamable force, completely overwhelming her. When she experimentally stroked his tongue with hers, Severus made a small sound in the back of his throat that drove her wild with desire. She had never been so overcome, clutching him to her and worshipping him with desperate kisses.

His expressive lips, his even more expressive tongue, clever, elegant hands that were everywhere, stroking her, clutching her…and his hard body, vibrating with need-it was indescribable. She inhaled his masculine aroma, wood smoke and old books and spices and—he was the fulfillment of everything she had ever smelled in Amortentia. How she loved him! She knew instinctively that what they had was special. No one but Severus could have evoked such an intense response in her. At that moment, she felt a temporary madness, and all she craved was for him to take her—to possess her. To belong to him, for him to be hers was all she wanted, all she'd ever want from now on. She didn't care about morals or pride or doing things the right way. She might have given herself to him then and there if they hadn't been interrupted.

Severus was too absorbed in the beauty and wonder of the woman he held in his arms, in ravishing her with ardent kisses, and stroking her supple body through the soft cashmere. Everything about her filled him with wonder, from the gentle curve of her back to her fine shoulders, her tiny, shell-like ears and the soft swell of her breasts, which he felt as he skimmed his hands down her sides. Heart quickening, he pressed her intimately against him and made his way down her neck with his lips, until he reached the tantalizing spot where her delicate throat joined her collarbone. Marian moaned softly at the stimulation of his soft lips and tongue and his erotic five o'clock shadow against her skin.

She responded zealously, caressing his back and shoulders and carding her fingers through his hair. He paused for a moment in his ministrations when he felt her hands there. He had spent his entire life being told how disgusting and greasy his clean, though admittedly fine and lank hair was. He was so self-conscious about it that he cut it himself and wouldn't let anyone else near it. He could have chopped it off, but was far too used to the twin curtains that he had hid behind as a child, which had provided him with a false sense of safety, much like a blanket pulled over the face wards off monsters. He was a man that knew how the value of stability-of having a few unchanging constants in his life. Having her touch him there gave him a moment's pause, but it felt too good to resist. His eyes almost rolled back into his head when she gently stroked his scalp. He kissed her fervently on the mouth to show his appreciation. Severus was far too busy devouring her to sense his wards being dismantled. But Severus and Marian were wrenched from their daydream by a squeaky voice exclaiming, "Oh my! You can't do that in the library! We're about to close and-"

With a lazy flick of his wand, Severus Obliviated the old librarian and sent him scurrying away. He gave Marian a hesitant, almost sheepish glance, as though he expected her to disapprove of what he had done, but she just smiled languidly up at him with lust-filled, half-closed eyes, and whispered in his ear, "To me, everything you do is right."

He exhaled shakily, feeling a surge of lust at her murmured words, which was only intensified when she briefly sucked his earlobe. She began placing tender, erotic kisses all over his firm jaw and the slight amount of creamy throat that wasn't concealed by his high collar, and wrapped herself around him tighter. She couldn't seem to keep her hands off him. Severus was like a drug. She had never experienced anything like him, and, even as she paid homage with her lips, she quivered with the wonder of it all.

"Marian," he murmured hoarsely, swiftly approaching the point where he _had_ to have her—virgin or not. There was a sudden rigidity in his posture, and she sensed that he was holding himself in check, although his hands continued to caress her, seemingly of their own accord. His jaw was clenched and the vein in his throat throbbing and dilated. The desperate, gravelly way that his normally silky voice said her name sent renewed ripples of desire coursing through her, and she ran her tongue over the tendon in his neck, making him groan unsteadily. The sound made her completely crazy, and she found his lips again for one last, frenzied kiss, which they gradually gentled, until she finally pulled away, lightly dragging her teeth over his bottom lip in her reluctance to part with him.

She looked away, afraid of getting taken back out with the tide, and ran her hands up and down his chest, more wound up than she had ever been. Marian detected him pulling away from her emotionally, and even through the haze of her desire felt a fear that he was about to reject her, that she had been too wanton.

In spite of a slightly better track record than Severus, Marian still had very little confidence when it came to the opposite sex. She knew that men occasionally found her attractive, but she usually brushed them off. She had no idea if she had what it took to keep a man interested—especially a polymath like the dark-haired spy. Even though she had always suspected that she would manage just fine, considering some other women she knew that maintained committed relationships, there was still a lingering doubt—she _was_ highly inexperienced. She had always dressed and behaved in ways that suited her. Marian knew she was probably behind the times and the latest fashions, and didn't really know how to conduct herself in a way that would keep a man coming back—she was acting completely on instinct, and deep down, she didn't really trust her instincts. She and Severus were both the sort that quickly mastered whatever skill captured their interest, but neither one had much confidence in being appreciated for who they were, rather than for their abilities.

When they first broke apart, Severus felt incredibly close to Marian. She was what he had dreamed of for so many long, dreary years. She would have been the friend that could have cheered his miserable childhood, the counselor that would have kept his teenage focus on good and noble things rather than power, the lover that would have warmed his man's heart. He would have given anything in that moment to be free, to be able to dedicate himself to cherishing and protecting her. He mentally cursed his duty, his inescapable destiny. _She_ was the most important thing to him. If only _she_ was safe, then, as far as he was concerned, the rest of the world could be damned….But in spite of his mad impulses, Severus Snape had built some character over the years. He wanted to put her first—where she deserved to be, but knew that he couldn't—not yet.

He reviled himself for his thoughts. There could be no _'not yet'_. It must be _'not ever'_. He knew the task he would soon have to perform in Draco's stead, and Severus was a shrewd man; he fully grasped the unlikelihood of a happy ending. He would die in the war—or live for a time only to face humiliation and an even more ignominious death. She would only be endangered and put to shame by any association with him.

Severus watched her intently, and noticed that she wouldn't make eye-contact. He finally found his voice and said in deceptively smooth tones that concealed the turbulence inside him, "We shouldn't do this—it can't happen again."

Marian was touchy, and his words confirmed her suspicions. If she had known him better and been less insecure, she would have felt the lack of force behind his words. But in her mind, he was rejecting her already. In an attempt to gather up what was left of her dignity, Marian affected unconcern, straightening her hair and answering in a cool drawl, "Well, as long as you're satisfied that I'm telling the truth, I see no need to repeat the experience just for Sirius' benefit….So, are we friends again?"

Severus felt that he had approached paradise and looked into the garden, only to find his way barred by an angel with a flaming sword, telling him that he could never pass, that he was unworthy, unclean. He didn't know what he had been hoping—perhaps that Marian would object to his words, that she would cling to him and refuse to give him up. But she had seemed entirely unaffected, and with one cruelly dismissive sentence had submerged him in a tsunami of self-doubt.

He felt foolish for his honest response of a moment before and began to convince himself that he meant nothing to her, that all of his internal struggles were completely immaterial, since she obviously didn't want a future with him. Just because their embrace had been a transformative experience for him, didn't mean that she felt the same. She had been trying to win him over, and her glib tongue hadn't succeeded, so she'd taken a different tack. It had probably just been a ploy that had spun out of control-he _had_ been rather enthusiastic. She was probably ashamed of herself, probably felt that she had been 'slumming it' with him. Impassive as ever, Severus stared at her for a long moment and then, in clipped tones, said, "Friends. Yes."

There was a brief pause, and then Marian asked suddenly, "What time is it?"

"Seven o'clock. I think the library is officially closed," Severus said, his tone chillier than it used to be the _first_ time they were friends.

"Merlin! I was supposed to meet someone for dinner at six-thirty!" she gasped in horror, although she had presence of mind enough to say 'someone' rather than 'Tonks'. Let him assume she had a date, Marian thought vindictively.

He watched as she rushed, sending everything back to its place with a nod of her head, and then flinging a long scarf several times around her slender neck. She ran around the table to get her robes, which she transfigured into a smart, mid-calf length wool coat without missing a beat. Severus came around the table silently to hold it while she slid her arms into the sleeves. After a moment, as she buttoned it and cinched the belt tightly, she glanced up to find him watching her in a way that caused her cheeks to flush anew with color. She paused in her actions, and they surveyed each other curiously, each secretly hoping that the other would betray some sign of affection. But they were both very good actors, and neither knew the other's tell. After an eternity of staring into her shuttered eyes, Severus favored her with a cool nod, spun on his heel with enough force to send his cloak billowing around him, and disappeared around the bend.

Marian hated how his swift and dramatic exits always made her conscious of loss. She hated being left behind. Even as a child, Marian would cry when her friends had to go home, but when time came for her to exit their houses, she would leave without regrets. As an adult, she had traveled the world, leaving friends and family. _She_ was the one meant to ride off into the sunset. Others wept for _her_. Such are the psychological tricks people play on themselves. But with Severus, the 'natural order' seemed completely inverted.


	18. Chapter 18

Author's Note: To the two of you that have reviewed my story, thank you so much! I am thrilled that a few people are spending their valuable time to read something I have written.

I had originally planned to post five chapters a day, but now I think it will be wiser to do fewer, in order to ensure that everything is properly edited and that I have time to finish the last two or three chapters without causing a gap between postings.

Chapter 18: Jewelry

When Marian finally arrived at the restaurant, Tonks was finishing her first cocktail. "I'm glad you were late too. I only just got here. We had the most dreadful situation at work….What's the matter with you? Marian, you look—strange. What is it?" Tonks said curiously, tilting her head to better observe her friend.

Marian slid into the seat across from her. The waiter materialized a moment later with a pen and pad to take their order, and Tonks looked at Marian questioningly. "Do you know what you want?" she asked. It was a small pub that they frequented, so both were familiar with the menu.

"Yes," she replied in a somewhat strangled voice, adding "You go first."

"I'll have the fried fish with the cheese sauce and onion rings," Tonks announced, and prodded Marian.

"Oh…I'll have…the same," she answered dazedly.

Tonks knit her brows in consternation. "But you hate onions! And you hate cheese on your fish! What's the matter with you? …She'll have the Porterhouse—rare, with a baked potato—no sour cream, and a salad with Italian dressing on the side. Oh, and whatever IPA you have on tap," she directed authoritatively.

Giving the girls a bemused look, the waiter nodded and disappeared around the corner.

Tonks suddenly smacked both hands palms-down onto the table top, jarring Marian out of her stupor. "Okay, spill," she said, the effect of her laser-like focus only enhanced by her vibrant, violet hair.

Marian cast a Muffliato and mumbled, "Severus," before resting her forehead on her arms for a moment.

"What's he done now?" Tonks exclaimed, "It wasn't enough that the bloody bastard had to make a scene at the Order meeting. So now he's going out of his way to make trouble for you?"

"He kissed me—no, we kissed each other," she murmured.

"What!" she asked, thrown for a loop. A moment later, out of morbid curiosity, she added, "How was it?"

"It was…life-altering," Marian said after a moment, and then proceeded to tell her what had happened—the censored version, anyway.

At some point, they received their meals, and Tonks ate absentmindedly, while Marian picked at her food and continued her tale.

"So we ended on a sour note. I don't know what that man is thinking. He told me that he didn't want me and when I tried to make it easy for him by playing along and acting like it didn't mean anything for me either, he turned cold again," Marian explained, taking another sip of her ale.

Tonks rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Merlin, are you clueless!"

"What are you talking about?" Marian asked defensively.

"If you two do wind up together, I don't know how you'll ever resolve your conflicts. You are the proudest, stubbornest, most self-destructive people I know. If your pride is on the line, you'll sacrifice anything to it—even each other," Tonks said severely, waving an onion ring at her, and flinging droplets of cheese sauce all over her plate and the tablecloth.

"That's not true!" she exclaimed, "I was just reacting to what he said. And besides, who are _you_ to lecture _me_ about relationships…."

Marian faltered. She hadn't meant to insult Tonks about her unrequited love for Remus. In fact, she felt that she and Tonks were in much the same boat, both pining after dangerous, unsuitable men.

Tonks was thick-skinned, however, and pushed past the issue quickly, "I know—because of Remus, right? But if Remus had made a move and kissed me today, I'd be damned before I ever let him go—words or no words, I would have used my body to bring him into submission. But that's neither here nor there. Even though he and I have yet to get together, Remus isn't my first 'rodeo'—I think that's the American term for it," she said with twinkling eyes. Marian smiled in amusement.

But Tonks continued her diatribe, which she punctuated with bites of cheese fish, which she dipped into Marian's abandoned baked potato, "Let me tell you something about Severus Snape. He was my Professor for four years, and we've been in the Order together for a while now, so I've had plenty of chances to observe him. He is about as repressed a man as you could ever hope to find.

"Think about it, he has lived a cloistered, miserable life down in the dungeons, doing Dumbledore's bidding. He's never had a girlfriend that I know of. If he's had any women at all, they were prostitutes, but I find that extremely unlikely because of his elitism and proud, suspicious nature. He's intense, but not really playful, which you need to be to attract women for one night stands.

"Besides, he's not the sort to hang around pubs. He stays in his Potions lab, his study—and wherever else nerds like that go. My point is, he's sublimated his desires for decades, and then you came along and brought everything up to the surface. I guess that he's been having these thoughts about you for a very long time. I would say over a year, at the very least—remember how attentive he was at Boxing Day? Also, he was obviously very upset at the thought of you not being attracted to him….You should have seen him at the Order meeting after you entered the Veil. He was actually scary. And I heard that he blew off teaching a couple of his classes to make you strengthening potions while you were unconscious. From what I heard, the Infirmary already had most of the potions in stock, but Snape wanted to make them all from scratch to ensure you only had the freshest ingredients. And he hasn't missed a day of teaching since he started at Hogwarts—no matter how sick he felt or how much he had been tortured….But my point is that Snape does not act on impulse. He has wanted you for a _very_ long time and today he gave into temptation."

"Do you think that's possible? But why did cast me aside the moment we separated?" Marian asked in a small voice, sitting back to mull over what Tonks had just said.

"According to your story, he didn't 'cast you aside'; he just said that you guys couldn't repeat the passionate interlude. I don't like him, and I'm not sure he's capable of a normal relationship, but to his credit, he's not an idiot. It probably occurred to him how dangerous it would be if the two of you got together right now. Before he kissed you, back when you were thinking clearly, you also thought it would be too dangerous. That was your whole rationale for not approaching him about getting together, if you recall," Tonks reasoned.

"You're just projecting my motives onto him. Before he left, I looked into his eyes and they were completely closed off. I couldn't see even a hint of affection in them. If I had, I would have-" she argued.

"You would have _what_? Apologized for being cruel—for choosing words to deliberately hurt him in answer to an imagined slight? Well, if you want to get laid, that would certainly be a good place to start!...And when have any of us seen _anything_ in Snape's eyes when he didn't want us to? They're as empty as a shark's, and always have been. He's a spy, for goodness' sake! He doesn't wear his heart on his sleeve….There's a Muggle song that goes—'If you wanna know, if he loves you so, it's in His Kiss'," Tonks sang, garnering strange looks from the people at the surrounding tables. Even through the Muffliato, it was obvious that Tonks was acting out. Marian laughed aloud at her friend's unexpectedly good rendition.

"Have you heard it?" she asked, and Marian nodded.

"Well, I think there's some truth in it. Let me ask you, what did you sense about his kisses? Was he clinical and curious, wildly passionate? Considerate? Selfish? Disrespectful?" Tonks trailed off expectantly.

Marian thought for a moment, a radiant, secret smile hovering on her lips. Tonks rolled her eyes. "Well," Marian began hesitatingly, "At the time, it felt like he really wanted me—and not just my body either. He couldn't seem to stop touching me. His hands kept stroking my back, my hair, all over my face and neck….I think he was genuinely affected. He was wild and mad, but he was still protective through it all, sometimes gentle. There was so much…_emotion_ in his kisses. I've never felt so wanted."

"There, you have your answer," her friend said wisely, taking another swig of her drink.

"Tonks, I have to ask-why are you being so supportive? I mean, you can't stand him," Marian asked, surprised to find such insight from the Auror that made it her practice to ridicule and despise the man Marian loved.

"Oh, I still hate him. Never doubt that, but I figure it's in my best interests for you to toy with the greasy git. A good shagging will probably make him easier to deal with, besides the fact that I'll get to enjoy how devastated he'll be when you get tired of him and break it off.

"You always help me when it comes to Remus, and what kind of friend would I be if I didn't return the favor? ...I'll admit I'm a little horrified and can't imagine why you don't pick Sirius instead, but if you're curious about Snape and want to test-drive him, that's your business. He never gets any, so he might at least make for a pleasantly rough ride...although, if I were you, I wouldn't tell anyone I was sleeping with him," Tonks whispered, as though confiding very sage advice.

Marian clenched her teeth in disappointment and disgust. She realized that she should have just taken Tonks' advice at face-value, but in her hope that her friend had experienced a little personal growth, she had set the bar too high and Tonks had gotten hung up over the top of it. She blamed herself for delving deeper. She should have just accepted her friend's limitations. Tonks was incapable of being more than she was, and Marian could hope for no real understanding from her.

Severus' kisses haunted Marian day and night, but he made no more efforts to run into her, and getting in to see him was as difficult as paying a visit to the Minister of Magic. Snape rarely left Hogwarts during term. Occasionally he had covert business for either Dumbledore or the Dark Lord that would send him prowling about at unusual hours, or he would exit the castle to supervise the children on certain Hogsmeade weekends. And of course there were the requisite meetings of both sides. But even though she racked her brains, she could contrive no way to visit him that wouldn't arouse suspicion and make a fool of her.

The months passed by. Marian had been working on all kinds of things in the meantime. She had made little headway with her project to do away with the Dark Mark, although whenever she came across any leads during the course of her other research, she stopped what she was doing and hunted them down.

Marian always had half her mind on whatever she was doing, while the other half wandered to Hogwarts and dwelled on whatever conversations Dumbledore and Harry happened to be having. She knew it was pathetic, but she scheduled her lunches around Harry's Defense Against the Dark Arts class, so that she could listen in on Snape's lessons. His voice was low and quiet, but very distinctive, and she hung on every word. He was actually an excellent teacher, to her mind. But Marian had always preferred competent lecturers to discussion-type classes, where she had to listen to the 'insights' of her mostly-incompetent peers.

She knew she was almost alone in that regard. Lectures were very passé, according to the so-called 'educational experts' in the United States. Education was supposed to be flashy, to engage the children's interest by letting them move around and work on nonsensical projects. Marian had always been intense, and she disliked any interruption in the flow of information. She loved to read and highly prized a good speaker—especially one with a voice like Severus'. His smooth tones caressed her like a silk scarf. She marveled that his female students weren't begging for detentions. Probably because, knowing Severus, he put them to work pickling toads' brains or something else ingeniously awful.

But she was not only paying careful attention to these conversations to hear Severus speaking—that was merely a bonus. She didn't think of it as spying on _him_, because his voice only came through incidentally. He was not her target. Marian had been hearing some frightening and amazing things lately. Harry had been having 'sessions' with Dumbledore, where the two of them would enter a Pensieve and view memories of Voldemort in his younger years. She had been interested all along—even before the first whisper of the word 'Horcrux' came to her ears. And now she was very interested indeed. She was dying for Harry to hurry and recover the memory Dumbledore had asked him to retrieve from Professor Slughorn, so that she could listen to the next piece of the puzzle.

One evening in late spring, Marian was taking a walk with Ms. Bear and suddenly heard Severus' voice over her Dumbledore link. He sounded urgent and upset, saying that Dumbledore took too much for granted, and that maybe he didn't want to do it anymore. Dumbledore firmly replied that Severus had already agreed, and that there was nothing more to say on the matter. Marian began to feel very uneasy, and returned to the house with foreboding and a strange hurt in her heart.

The next day, St. Mungo's was in an uproar. Marian wondered why weekends were always so busy. She supposed that it made sense that people would get into more mischief during their leisure time than during the work week. She kept rather irregular hours, and made an appearance in the afternoon to see if there were any interesting cases for her. Marian Flooed into the fourth floor, the Spell Damage ward, where she did most of her consulting. She had an aloof, authoritative mien that stood her in good stead when stalking hospital corridors. People rarely bothered her with annoying questions.

Today they were even less likely to bother her, as she hardly looked official. Marian planned to be in and out, and had forgone business attire in favor of the robes she intended to dine in later. The gown was perfect for the warm, late spring weather. It was Phoenician purple, with golden fretwork along the edges. The design was Grecian and airy, leaving her arms bare. It had golden clasps that attached to a deep purple cloak, and she wore delicate golden sandals on her small feet.

For a change, her hair fell down her back in a glorious mahogany train. She had gathered it up in the front and secured it with three golden circlets that wound cleverly through her hair and about her head. Marian wore elegant golden jewelry, including a bracelet that she had had magically engraved with scenes from the Trojan War. Her makeup was also different, as she had thinly edged her eyes in kohl and dusted her eyelids with purple shadow.

Three of her male co-workers stopped dead in their tracks when they saw her, astonished that they had had never realized the extent of her beauty. Now that Marian had made peace of a sort with Severus, she felt more like her old self and was able to take pleasure once again in the richer, more traditional dress code of the European wizarding world.

As she approached the information desk to see if they needed her expertise, she saw a familiar figure, and her heart recognized him before her mind fully registered that she was, in fact, looking at _him_. Severus seemed to sense her gaze and turned towards her almost at once, his clever dark eyes giving nothing away. The mere sight of his tall, spare figure sparked a longing in her that bubbled up in her heart like a mountain spring, only to race through her veins in torrents of mingled affection and lust. Next to him stood Professor McGonagall, and Marian instantly realized that Severus was not here to see her. His visit to St. Mungo's had another purpose entirely—something was very wrong at Hogwarts.

She smiled and greeted them both, "Professor McGonagall…Professor Snape." She reached out to shake both of their hands and when she clasped Severus' long, cool fingers, she felt a heady rush of desire, and met his eyes almost involuntarily. Her full lips parted and her cheeks flushed with unmistakable color. For a moment, excitement and yearning for him sparkled in her eyes before she remembered how they had parted, and that she wasn't supposed to be looking at him that way. His grip tightened spasmodically.

"Hello, dear. It's good to see you—despite the circumstances," Professor McGonagall said fretfully, taking off her small spectacles in order to polish them.

"What's happened?" Marian asked in consternation.

"One of my students came into contact with a cursed object during the Hogsmeade outing. She seems to have been Imperiused inside the Three Broomsticks, and given a package. The package ripped, and she touched a cursed necklace through a tiny hole in her glove. According to the children around her at the time, she flew up into the air and screamed several times in terrible pain, and then fell down to the ground unconscious. The Healers have not yet managed to revive her," Professor McGonagall replied.

Marian and Severus suddenly realized that they still held hands, and both jerked away self-consciously. McGonagall made no sign that she thought anything peculiar about this.

"That sounds like an assassination attempt…Any idea who gave her the necklace?" Marian murmured in a low voice.

McGonagall answered, "Well, Mr. Potter seemed quite adamant that—"

"Potter is not an oracle, and his flights of fancy cannot be taken as facts," Severus interrupted in a flat voice.

McGonagall seemed about to say something else, but glanced over at Severus, whose lips formed a thin, disapproving line, and she amended whatever she had been about to say to, "Unfortunately, no. No one actually saw who gave it to her. We couldn't get her to say who it was intended for either."

"Although I suppose that's obvious," Marian answered, "If she was on her way back to the school with it, she must have been after either Dumbledore or Harry Potter."

Snape scoffed, and she shot him a challenging eyebrow, "If this happened to a Gryffindor student, then why are _you_ here?"

"Professor Dumbledore had the mistaken idea that I would be of some use here, since I had examined the cursed artifact. But he couldn't have been more wrong. The healers gave the necklace one look and then wrapped it up to be examined later. They were a couple of particularly incompetent former students, and scattered like scared rabbits the moment I spoke to them. Anyway, their focus is on keeping their unconscious patient _comfortable_, rather than trying to figure out which curse was used so that they can save her life," Severus said mutinously.

"Yes, they're rather short-staffed on the weekends. And between us, it seems that wizarding hospitals tend to have the newest and most incompetent healers during irregular business hours. There are almost never any specialists…" Marian trailed off, as they looked at her expectantly. An ironic smile hovered around Severus' lips.

Marian nodded in sudden understanding and excused herself, turning and walking the few steps to the desk, "Karin—who's handling the case with the Hogwarts' girl?"

The brunette magically rifled through a stack of files and then said, "We won't have anyone here with the expertise to take on this case until Healer Singleton comes back Wednesday. Some of the healers examined the cursed object, but could do nothing with it—the magic is far too advanced….Would you like to take it on?" she asked hopefully.

"Yes, I would," Marian answered, taking the file and glancing over it.

She returned to the others and said quietly, "This case is mine now. Would you lead me to the girl?"

They nodded and brought her to the door of the hospital room. Peering through the glass, Marian could see that the child's parents already attended her. She glanced over at Professor McGonagall, who seemed very tired and old all of a sudden, and said kindly, "You have done all you can for the day. Why don't you return to Hogwarts? Katie's parents are with her, and I promise to do everything I can to help her. I'm sure your House is in an uproar, and a lot of students will need comfort. If it's alright, I'd like Professor Snape to stay for a while. I think he would be a great help—if he's amenable to that," she said, both women watching his face for a reaction.

"That is acceptable to me. You should go, Minerva. You've accomplished what you came here to do. Ms. Bell now has a curse-breaker working on her case. If you go back, you'll be able to tell the Headmaster," he coaxed.

"Well, I don't like it, but I don't know what else I can do here," McGonagall sighed, "I'll be back tomorrow. Please contact me at once if anything changes."

They both nodded, and when she had gone, glanced at each other for a moment before entering the room. The injured girl lay on the bed, as stiff and white as a corpse, and her long blonde hair was unkempt and scattered across the pillow. The effect was eerie and Marian felt as though she were attending a Muggle wake. A young healer looked up at Marian questioningly, and so she showed her badge to appease him. Then he noticed that Snape had entered behind her and emitted a squeak of protest. "Professor Snape! He can't be in here!" he yelped.

Marian moved slightly in front of Severus and answered coldly, "I am Marian Oliver, the curse-breaker in charge of this case. Professor Snape is with me, as he also has considerable skill in this area."

The parents looked up at her in sudden interest. "She must be good," they heard Mr. Bell say to his wife, "because she's an American, and all the other foreigners have been deported."

Marian glanced at Severus and asked, "Has anything changed since you last saw her?"

He made no answer, carefully scrutinizing the patient. After a moment, he tugged her sleeve and ushered her out of the room. "She seems about the same, although her joints may be more rigid than before. It's hard to be sure," he murmured.

"Did you notice the rapid eye movement?" Marian asked, matching his hushed tones.

"Yes—the curse is still active. It's probably causing pain even in her current state," Severus replied.

"Let's take a look at the necklace," she said, and led the way down the corridor to the all-purpose Potions lab/ research center. Approaching a filing cabinet, she sought and found the correct case number, and levitated out the object they sought. The necklace had been wrapped in an impermeable material. She transported it, wrapper and all, into her small office that connected to the lab. She warded the door and then positioned the curio so that it floated idly above the center of her desk. Marian caused the covering to drop free and when she saw it, murmured, "Uh oh. This isn't good."

"Yes—it's a triple-stranded curse," Severus acknowledged.

"That's true, but what worries me is that this is such a valuable object. Ancient, valuable jewelry rarely retains a curse for long, unless it's incredibly difficult to break," Marian said thoughtfully.

"This curse is intended to kill, and to do it painfully. The first strand is obviously the Higginsworth Curse. A potion was infused to keep the other two curses fresh and strong over the centuries, and to help them transfer through the skin—you can still see the tell-tale green traces around the stones. One of the other curses may not be particularly potent on its own, if it needs Higginsworth to amplify it."

"You're right," she mused, watching the necklace rotate lazily, the large opals refracting the light from the table lamp into hundreds of pinprick-sized rainbows on the opposite wall. After a moment, she added, "The second might be one of the earlier, cruder versions of the Cruciatus. But it's the third one—the fatal part that I can't figure out. Severus, do you have any idea who might have done this, or where this necklace could have come from?"

Snape hesitated for a moment and then said, "This necklace has resided for many years on a dusty shelf in Borgin and Burkes."

"What's that?" she asked in puzzlement.

"A sort of novelty shop that favors the Dark Arts. It's located in Knockturn Alley—Diagon Alley's more dangerous sister," Severus revealed.

"And do you have any idea who bought it—who planted it?" she probed.

Severus looked very troubled, and for an unguarded moment, she saw the creases in his face that came from many sleepless nights. "As a matter of fact, I do—but dealing with him is my responsibility. Knowing who planted it will not help you save the girl," Severus admitted reluctantly.

Marian glanced at him keenly, but asked no more questions on the topic. Instead, after a pause, she murmured softly, "I missed you, you know."

The two of them had an excellent rapport, seamlessly working together on an intellectual level, but it took very little to renew the tension between them—a tone of voice, a glance. At her words, Severus avoided eye contact and busied himself with casting various diagnostics—mostly unnecessary—on the necklace. "Oh?" he murmured matter-of-factly, "Because the last time I saw you, you seemed in a great hurry to get away from me. I hope your date with Black turned out to be everything you imagined. I expect it did, since, judging by today's attire, you must have been planning to have dinner with him again tonight."

"Date? With Black?" she asked in confusion, and then laughed softly, sardonically, "No, it was Tonks I was meeting. Severus, I want to apologize to you about that night and I don't know how to do it without causing myself damage."

She had decided to prove Tonks wrong. Severus could be surprisingly thin-skinned sometimes and Marian decided that she would rather risk embarrassment and an injury to her pride on the off-chance that her friend was right—that Severus _had_ been hurt by her words-and that he had turned her away for noble reasons rather than because he didn't want her. Marian didn't like the idea of exposing her vulnerability, but decided that she would do it for him. She would bear the rejection in his stead—let him know that he was important and that she still respected him and felt attracted to him. She knew that it wouldn't make him pursue anything with her, but she had promised herself to put him first, and at least this way _one_ of them wouldn't feel the heartache that comes from being cast aside.

"Are you still on about that night?" he asked lazily, although his posture seemed a little more rigid than it had a moment before. He added, "There is no need to revisit it."

Marian toyed with the quill that she had been using to take notes, and Severus watched her graceful hands, fingernails glazed with lovely, mother-of-pearl enamel. The nails caught the light and he found himself attracted to their rose and violet gleams.

Marian felt her way forward carefully, "I agree that the less said about that night, the better. But I do need to apologize for the way we parted….I was feeling…vulnerable, and when you immediately pushed me away, I didn't consider your reasons—I suppose I didn't trust you. Instead, I felt slighted and said things that were deliberately cruel to try to make you feel as insignificant as I felt. And I'm sorry."

"And if I hadn't offended you—what would you have said then?" he asked, giving her the benefit of his complete, laser-like attention. Her heart leapt with excitement. Perhaps Tonks hadn't been as far off as Marian had thought.

With seeming incongruity, Marian slowly trailed her fingers down the side of her throat, and Severus couldn't help the hunger in his eyes as he watched the erotic journey. She gently brushed aside the royal purple drapery and stopped when she reached the place where her neck and shoulder joined, murmuring, "You gave me a love bite—_right here_."

Feeling suddenly out of his depth, he answered breathlessly, "_Did I?_ I'm sorry."

Marian channeled her inner Tonks and gathered her courage. She stood with self-assurance and glanced over her shoulder to look him in the eye. She replied coyly, "Don't be. I was sad when it faded. It had served as a reminder of you…of how your mouth felt on my body."

Marian was afraid that she had gone too far. She had never been so brazen—so vocally brazen, anyway. But she had always suspected that men like Snape-verbal, clever men, could become far more enmeshed by seductive words than most. Even though her performance had been for his benefit, she was hardly unaffected, and had felt it necessary to put some distance between them before uttering those provocative words. Otherwise, what she had intended as a tease might have escalated rather rapidly. She wanted him so much; she didn't think she would be able to resist the impulse to touch him—and he had made it clear that that couldn't happen.

As she removed her cloak from the peg on her door, she heard the sound of Severus' wand clattering to the table. He suddenly became conscious that his body was not his own. One word from her, a look, a touch fully aroused him—so quickly and naturally that his iron self-control never even came into play. He felt himself enslaved to this Cleopatra, this extraordinary, fascinating woman. For the first time, he understood the idea of courtly love. If Guinevere had been half as divine as this sylph in the Tyrian purple, then no wonder so many knights had dedicated themselves to her pleasure. Even without the promise of physical ecstasy, Marian drew Severus to her as effortlessly as the Pied Piper drew a child. He found her too compelling—to Severus, she was living art. Her ideas intoxicated him; he knew that if he could not achieve her, then no other woman would ever tempt him. She would never be eclipsed in his soul—so perfect was she in his eyes.

Her temerity had taken her as far as it could, because Marian didn't think she had a single femme fatale bone in her body. She didn't realize that Severus was frozen in his chair, closing his eyes so that he wouldn't have to see the enticing sight she made with her bust thrust temptingly forward as she raised ivory arms to attach the cloak to its golden clasps. It never even entered her head that he was fighting for control, teetering on the brink of taking her desperately up against the wall of her office.

His silence made her self-conscious, but she tried not to let it show. She turned and faced him. With a slight inclination of her head and a nonverbal spell, the cursed necklace was once again cocooned in its protective wrapper. She lifted an eyebrow at him in question. Severus had regained his self-possession, although he felt in his heart that this _thing_ between them would always be there, always waiting for him to lower his guard before resurging more powerfully than before. And Merlin help him, but the thought excited him.

"Where do you think you're going?" he drawled, although his normally silk-smooth voice seemed to have a bit of sand in it.

"Borgin and Burkes, of course," she answered, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

His face held a slight frown and he answered decisively, "Knockturn Alley? At twilight? Alone? Certainly not. It is no place for a lady."

"Oh, Severus! I'm just making one stop—it's not even dark yet. Besides, you know I can defend myself," she objected breezily.

"I shall accompany you. Your ignorance is excusable, since you have never been to Knockturn Alley before, but it can be a very dangerous place. It is full of the scum of the wizarding world—the low-brow criminal element. You may very well be able to win a fair fight, but let me assure you that if you ran into trouble there, those brutes would not play by the rules. You would almost certainly be outnumbered, and anyone can be knocked unconscious—even someone that has been there before and is paying attention to the shadows rather than the shop fronts. And trust me when I say that you would prove a temptation too great for them to resist. It would be the equivalent of carrying a transparent suitcase full of galleons through crowded slums….Dressed as you are, the beasts you would encounter in that part of town would risk much to acquire you," Severus said, rising from his seat and stalking purposefully towards the door.

"I think you're giving me too much credit," she laughed, "I'm just another witch walking down the street on business."

"Yes, but the other witches there are walking about on a different _kind_ of business," he smirked, opening the door and ushering her through.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19: The Quest

They replaced the evil object in the magical filing cabinet and exited the hospital. When they reached the open air, Severus said, "I'm going to Apparate us to the entrance of the Alley. Once we get there, don't let go of my arm. No one will trifle with you if I'm escorting you."

Marian took his arm without further ado. Secretly, she was thrilled at the prospect of an outing with him. She had been dreading the moment when they had to part and was pleased to postpone it for any reason, even one she considered rather trumped-up. But in a way, the thought that there was no _real_ danger pleased her even more. That meant that Severus had just been looking for an excuse to spend time with her. After the unpleasant swirling of the vision and swooping in the stomach that denoted a Side-Along Apparition, Marian found herself in Diagon Alley, at the entrance of another street that seemed much darker and dirtier than the one with which she was familiar, although even Diagon Alley seemed more subdued than it had been in the past. Several of the shops had gone out of business, and most stores appeared to be closing with the onset of night. But even if the atmosphere wasn't exactly cheerful, it still seemed relatively clean and safe.

Not so the other. Strange people loitered in the many alcoves. She spotted frightening old crones and sinister-looking men that peered at her with greedy, bloodshot eyes. She tucked her arm into Severus', enjoying the feel of the crisp, slightly-rough fabric and the steely strength of the arm it concealed. Touching Severus was always a novelty to her. She was not given to casual touches herself, didn't even know how to get away with touching him to make it _seem_ casual. But if she was aloof, he was that multiplied a hundred times. He had a diffident, no-nonsense aura that made people back away from his space rather than encroach on it. Even Marian, with whom he had engaged in a rather heated embrace, hesitated to 'take liberties'. But when their arms were linked and she felt the warm wool press against her side, she felt like skipping down the road. It was an unlooked-for treat to be this close to him.

He murmured a Muffliato so that she would know they could speak freely, and then, with an indecipherable glance at her upturned face, began leading her down the street. On his arm, Marian felt like a queen. Severus was tall and proud, stately and dangerous. She held her head high and paced beside him fearlessly, remarking, "If Knockturn Alley is as bad as you say, I'm surprised that the crime isn't spilling out into the main street."

"It is starting to. Diagon Alley is no longer as safe as it once was. It's only _lately_ that the rats of Knockturn Alley have become as bold as to venture into the lighted areas," he murmured with a meaningful glance, leaving her in no doubt about what he meant by 'lately'.

As they walked along, Marian glanced idly about. Suddenly, she started and gripped Severus' fine wrist compulsively. "I think that's Mundungus!" she exclaimed, as the familiar, dirty-looking little man ducked into a dimly-lit pub.

With a sidelong glance, Severus said neutrally, "It is, more than likely. He's just the sort to frequent these parts. But why are you so interested in that miserable little informant?"

"Well, Tonks told me a few months ago that she caught him in the act of burglarizing Grimmauld Place. He escaped into the Floo with his bag of loot and tried to Obliviate her, but _surprisingly_, his spell had no effect," Marian responded, looking up at him with dancing eyes over their shared secret. His stern features thawed a little as he looked down into her merry young face, glowing with mirth.

"So, he had the audacity to pilfer from Black," he mused with a smirk, "Tell me, how did he respond to the news? Was he outraged and running off at the mouth or was he too spoiled and complacent to take notice of a few stray heirlooms?"

His tone had turned a little dark with his last sentence and Marian playfully tapped his arm. "You are really the most heartless man, Severus Snape! Why, if I didn't know better, I would say that you weren't concerned about poor Sirius," she replied laughingly.

He looked down at her with tentative amusement. Severus was not used to laughing _with_ someone. People rarely teased him, and he liked it even more rarely. "I'm sure you showed enough concern for the both of us," he said drily.

Suddenly in earnest, Marian said, "You were wrong, you know."

"About what?" he asked dispassionately.

"You told me that Sirius would win me over—that eventually I would want him, but you're wrong. I never have, and I still don't. He keeps coming by the hospital trying to take me out, but I've been brushing him off," she confided.

"That…surprises me. I don't understand—he has always succeeded before. Perhaps it's just a question of more time. All the women I've known have succumbed to his charms," he said lightly—a little too lightly.

"Those were _girls_—not women. Don't get me wrong, he has many fine attributes, but I have no interest in the kind of man that-" she trailed off.

"_What_ kind of man?" he prompted.

"Sirius Black is _not_ the sort of man a woman can expect life-long loyalty from. He is bored easily and has always depended on _men_ for companionship. To him, women are a luxury; they exist primarily for physical pleasure. For that kind of man, variety is key, because he is incapable of seeing nuances and delving deeper into a person's identity. I may be misjudging him, but I doubt it. He is a carnal sort of person, and to a man like that, the body comes first and the mind and soul are mere incidentals," she explained.

"Yes," he sneered, "Black is a Gryffindor through-and-through. He exemplifies the traits of his house—he's brash, narrow-minded, and has the kind of bravery that stems more from a lack of imagination than actual character."

"So tell me about the Hogwarts Houses. I know you were in Slytherin—what are its dominant traits?" she asked, trying to steer him away from his Sirius Black-inspired downward spiral.

Severus paused for a moment before responding, "Ravenclaws are intelligent, but their House encourages an ivory-tower approach to academia. They focus on their marks and academic development to the exclusion of all else. Most Ravenclaw graduates are better suited for life in the archives or museums rather than the real world.

"Hufflepuff is the catch-all House, for children that have shown magical ability but are otherwise unremarkable. The Tri-Wizard contestant, Cedric Diggory, brought Hufflepuff House its first glory since I can remember."

Marian chuckled softly and she said, "Well, those two Houses don't sound any more inviting than Gryffindor. Tell me about Slytherin."

Severus darted an uncertain glance at her, unsure if she was laughing with him or at him. She gently pressed her shoulder against his arm to reassure him, and he continued, "I can only imagine what you've heard about Slytherin, since you have so many Gryffindors as friends, and those Houses have always been rivals. It is true that most of the Dark Lord's supporters have come from Slytherin. It was his own House, and he recruited there more heavily than elsewhere. Slytherin is also almost exclusively composed of Purebloods. The traits of that House are ambition and shrewdness. Its members also love knowledge and are often more intelligent than Ravenclaws, but they would never waste their careers quibbling over pretentious and insignificant details. They succeed in the real world," Severus said, hesitating before he added, "Many consider Gryffindors and Slytherins to be polar opposites, as far as character and values go."

"But there's obviously not much truth to that, if someone as sly as Dumbledore is a Gryffindor and someone as transparent as Bellatrix LeStrange made it into Slytherin," she commented.

"Yes, there are always exceptions. The Sorting Hat often gives one a choice…" he trailed off.

Marian was dying to ask if he had specifically requested Slytherin, but didn't know if that would be prying or not. So she decided to try to get the information she craved in a roundabout way. "You know," Marian said, "if the ruling passion of Slytherins is really ambition, then it seems to me that Slytherins would make far crueler lovers than Gryffindors."

"_Indeed?"_ he asked icily, "And why is that?"

"Well," she began, "Gryffindors might have a tendency to wear their hearts on their sleeves and to discard one woman for another, but ambitious men desert their lovers for advancement, for opportunity—that seems a much more callous betrayal. No matter how hard a woman worked to improve herself, she could never be enough for an ambitious man. She would always be expendable under the right circumstances."

"What if," Severus asked, staring straight ahead as he spoke, "_you_ were the 'ambitious man's' greatest ambition?"

"What do you mean?" she queried, her heart beating wildly with excitement.

"I _mean_ that fame and power and riches are not necessarily the _chief_ end of every man with drive and ability. Of course, the ambitious man intends to have all those things as well, but what if his greatest dream-the one thing he would sacrifice everything else to obtain-was the love of a woman like you? If he could possess you, could make you happy, he would look on _that_ as his greatest achievement," he said softly, adding, "So ambition is no reason to rule out _all_ Slytherins. In someone with the facility to see clearly, ambition is a great virtue. Do you think the man I described would be a 'cruel' and inconstant lover?" he demanded.

Marian pressed herself closer to him as the sun began to set and the temperature dropped. She glanced at him through her lashes and answered honestly, "No….A man like that would have no equal."

A moment later, Marian hugged his arm nearer and, to break the pensive silence, added playfully, "Do you think I'll ever meet such a man?"

He favored her with a sardonic eyebrow lift and drawled, "I don't know. Divination is really not my area. But Trelawney's back on the job—I suppose you could consult her."

Marian laughed out loud, and even the Muffliato couldn't conceal her joyous ringing tones or distort them so that they sounded like anything other than what they were.

As the sun went down, more and more unsavory-looking characters found their way into the street. Some passed by, bent on mysterious errands. Others made shady bargains with each other, but the vast majority milled about, and Marian noticed rather belatedly that she and Severus were the focus of their attention. Two burly, unshaven men stood smoking in front of a dilapidated building with no sign. One of them called out to her sneering, "You have a pretty laugh, lady. Is your friend a good lover? He satisfying you?"

Severus turned white with anger, but before he could react, Marian silently canceled the Muffliato and met the man's gaze fearlessly. "Why do you ask? Surely you can't imagine I'd share him with you," she remarked ironically.

"She's a cool customer. Certainly got a mouth on her!" he mumbled to his friend with admiration.

"She can afford to have, seeing as that's _Snape_ on her arm," snickered the other.

Even in the dim light, Marian could see the first man pale. "_Snape_! I didn't see that it was Snape. Pardon me, ma'am. I hope both of you have a nice night!" and with that he practically dove into the blackened doorway behind him, stumbling in his hurry to be out of Snape's line of fire.

"I see you're known in these parts," Marian joked, as Severus ushered her along.

The long-suffering glance he shot her afforded her even more amusement. They couldn't help but enjoy one another's company, and neither of them realized that, strolling down the street, they looked far more like lovers than acquaintances out on business.

"Here it is," he murmured, "Now I can finally get you off the street. I've never felt so many sets of eyes in my life."

He held open the glass door so that she could pass through, and then swept towards the counter, suddenly all business. Marian glanced around surreptitiously. Borgin and Burkes was a treasure-trove of curios and antiquities, of both the cursed and uncursed variety. She was itching to look around, but that would have to wait for another time—if the inscrutable man behind the counter ever let her come back after she and Severus finished questioning him.

"Good evening, Professor Snape. What brings you here tonight?" asked the shopkeeper politely, eyeing him warily all the time. Severus took charge immediately, and Marian decided to let him. He was known here and she wasn't; and after all, he possessed a considerably more intimidating presence.

"I have come about the cursed opal necklace that you recently sold. Unfortunately, its new owner lacked judgment and a child lies very near death as a result. I need to know where this object came from and what you know about it," Snape demanded with quiet authority.

The man kept shooting furtive looks at Marian, obviously wondering where she fit into the situation. He blustered, "Nobody can prove that the necklace came from my shop. I can't possibly be held liable. I don't know what you think you're doing, bringing someone in here and accusing me-"

Snape suddenly seemed taller and more menacing. He spoke in low, silky tones, "I would advise you to consider carefully the consequences of wasting our time. We are not here to prosecute you, but for information that may save a Hogwarts student. You _will_ provide us with this, and don't try to lie, for I shall know if you do."

The man didn't seem the sort that was used to being pushed around, but in spite of his bossy, controlled manner, he seemed to recollect suddenly to whom he was speaking because he muttered sulkily, "There's no need for that kind of talk, Professor. I'll cooperate."

Borgin reached beneath the counter and Marian saw Severus grip his wand in anticipation, but when the man reappeared, it was with merely a thick, battered tome coated with grime. He dropped it onto the counter with a resounding plunk, and began turning pages rapidly. Marian was disgusted when she saw him lick his fingers to aid him in turning the oily, crud-coated pages. Suddenly he grunted triumphantly and turned the book around so that Severus and Marian could read the entry. It was thirty-years-old, and said 'Cursed opal necklace. Jonathan Sharpe. Inherited several generations. Brought into the family by his ancestor, Lorraine Suchet, who died of it 3/13/1620. Acquired by shop Sept. 2, 1980."

Marian was impressed that such a detailed record still existed. She pulled out a Muggle pen charmed to look like a quill and began scribbling in a small notebook. Severus stood lost in thought for a moment, murmuring, "Lorraine Suchet—_where_ have I heard that name before?"

Borgin shuffled behind the counter, uncertain as to whether they wanted more from him, so Marian thanked him quietly in dismissal and gently reclaimed Snape's arm. The shop owner eyed her speculatively, and she met his gaze levelly as they exited the store._ Let_ him wonder about her.

When they found themselves once again in the poorly-lit street, Marian looked up at Severus, who still seemed preoccupied and asked, "Should we Apparate?"

"What? No. The Ministry has placed anti-Apparition wards all over this street, supposedly to cut down on crime. The nearest Apparition point is the entrance to Diagon Alley, where we started," he replied, and then, as an afterthought whispered, "_Muffliato_."

Marian took the spell as an invitation to make conversation and she said genially, "Borgin and Burkes was actually a pretty interesting place. Sometime I'd like to look around. In fact, several of the shops on this street look promising—like that Apothecary. I'll bet you can get all sorts of restricted ingredients there."

"You can," he said matter-of-factly, but didn't elaborate.

After a moment, he told her, "Many of the stores here really are quite wonderful, and I'll take you to see them all sometime if I can, but just promise me you won't come here alone."

"Alright, if it makes you happy," she answered mildly. She saw no point in arguing and spoiling their time. Severus' feelings on the subject weren't going to change, and besides, it really was no hardship for her to promise. Knockturn Alley didn't seem like the sort of place she would want to come alone. She had no doubt that she could defend herself, but didn't want to be subjected to any more crude advances.

Still pondering, Severus muttered, "Where have I heard that name before? ...Marian, talk about something—anything except the curse case. Distract me and the memory will come back."

"Alright. Well, would you like to go to dinner?" she asked hesitantly.

"I suppose it is that time," he replied cavalierly.

"What do you think—a wizard or Muggle place?" Marian inquired.

He paused for a beat and then said, "Wizard, I think. We may both be questioned about this night later and neither of us is supposed to appreciate anything Muggle….Lead the way. I'll go wherever you like."

The dining options in wizarding London were limited, but Diagon Alley was close so they ended up at an outdoor café. After they ordered, they placed a Notice-Me-Not spell and a Muffliato. They ate leisurely, each basking in the other's presence. Marian found it a pleasure to watch Severus eat. He had perfect table manners and used his utensils with deft precision. She had never seen anyone eat pasta with such elegance.

Severus caught her staring and raised an eyebrow. She blushed and said, "I like the way you eat. Most men are so…gauche, but not you. Now don't look at me that way, Severus. It's a compliment! Everything about you is very refined—your manners, speech, features….You could have been born in a castle rather than just raised in one."

His eyes glimmered at the compliment, but he brushed it off, saying wryly, "There is certainly nothing 'refined' about my nose."

The moment he said it he regretted his words. He didn't want to show any insecurity or appear to need reassurance, but Marian hardly gave him a chance to feel self-conscious in front of her. It was true that Severus' nose was hooked and rather large. Along with his hair, it was by far his most maligned feature. But Marian found it attractive—to her, it seemed rugged and masculine and perfectly fit his face. She gave him a charming smile and answered, "You're wrong about that. I've always liked it. In a way, it _is_ refined. You have a traditional Roman nose—like some of the greatest men of history and literature. Julius Caesar, Sherlock Holmes…Severus Snape."

"Your nose will soon match mine if you continue to spout such ridiculous lies," Severus replied drily, but Marian sensed that he was pleased.

Severus marveled at the unusual sensation he was experiencing, and realized that it was happiness. He was actually enjoying himself. With Marian, everything felt different—_he_ was different. He began to see new possibilities-of a life where he could have an intrinsic value for someone, where he could be more than merely the dour, demanding presence on the outskirts of the group that everyone secretly resented.

Back at Hogwarts, he was reviled by the students and distrusted by the teachers, most of who remembered him as a student. Although there was a tentative mutual respect between him and the other professors, the next youngest instructor was nearly a half century older than him. They might be polite, but the truth was that he was just as much an outcast among them as he had been among his peers as a student. Even his quarters were located far away from those of the others. He was naturally aloof and had only ever had one friend, but it certainly didn't help his standing with the other teachers that he was the only one of their number ever to have been tried before the Wizengamot as a Death Eater. But Marian, Marian didn't seem to care about any of that. She listened to him and acted protectively towards him. She appreciated his ideas, confided in him, and laughed with him like he was an ordinary man, rather than the killjoy he was universally acknowledged to be. The realization opened his eyes: he liked _himself_ better when was with Marian.

The night was a particularly fine one, with the first stars beginning to peek out. A crescent moon rose in the sky, and a warm, gentle breeze ruffled their hair and made the candlelight dance and shudder. Occasionally people would pass by wearing robes of summer hues. The two companions sipped their wine in silence for a few minutes, each enjoying the evening and surreptitiously watching the other. Marian wanted to ask about what she had overheard of his conversation with Dumbledore, but didn't know how to broach the subject without prematurely giving out the secret of her listening devices. She doubted that he would confide in her anyway, but she knew she still had to try. After all, Severus Snape rarely responded the way she anticipated. So she leaned forward and asked cautiously, "Severus, has anything been troubling you lately—would you tell me if something was wrong?"

He didn't answer, but sat silently watching her for a moment, his forceful gaze making her shiver. Out of the blue, Severus said, "Marian, will you do something for me?"

"Of course, as long as it's nothing completely unreasonable-like leaving the country," she answered with a laugh.

He was suddenly serious, leaning across the table to murmur urgently, "Repudiate your Unforgivable Vow. We can contact Lupin and get him to meet us to cancel it as soon as we finish dining."

"Now that_ is_ unreasonable," she said coolly, leaning back slightly and crossing her arms.

"Marian, listen," Severus broke out passionately, "I _know_ why you made that Vow. It was a concession to my suspicious nature because I've doubted you many times. No doubt you thought it would ease my mind to know that you would always be waiting in the wings to help me, no matter how detestable I made myself to you and the rest of the wizarding world.

"Tonight you are very perceptive—lately I _have_ been under enormous pressure and troubled over many things. It would be a tremendous relief to have this Vow no longer crushing me down. An Unbreakable Vow is an abomination between you and me. It perverts our genuine trust in one another. I might be able to depend on your help if I got into trouble, but I would always wonder about your motivation—whether you were helping me because you had to or because you wanted to. All my life, I've been a slave to past sins, and I know from bitter experience that motive makes all the difference in the world."

Marian's eyes softened more the longer he spoke, and his pitch black eyes measured her reaction to his words. When he saw that she was still receptive, he continued, "You trusted in me when you made the Vow, but that could easily change….I cannot bear to take away your choice. Even if you decided to betray me, I'm sure you would have good reason. You are honorable, and if you truly believed me to be irredeemably evil, I know that you would die rather than assist me if it meant going against your convictions. I refuse to be the instrument of your destruction!" he murmured vehemently.

Marian wrapped her purple cloak around herself and replied, "Severus, I made that Vow to protect you. I wanted to give you security-"

"You knew I would never have agreed to it. I spend all my time feeling like a chess piece manipulated by both players. I never expected that treatment from you. It was wrong to take away my choice and you know it," he pressed her in low tones that were almost preternaturally persuasive.

She lowered her head, and the candlelight caused her lashes to make strange half-moon shadows on her cheeks. For a moment she sat in dejection, before looking up, directly into his eyes and saying softly, "I'm sorry. I've only ever wanted to help you—not to hurt you. I worried about you, but at the time of the Vow, you weren't even speaking to me. I didn't think I would ever be in a position to help you without something like this. I felt you would never come to me on your own, and I was afraid you would have no one."

At her words, Severus' eyes overflowed with tenderness, and he reached across for one of her dainty hands, murmuring, "I'm a skeptic—and I know I doubt you when I shouldn't, but you always win me over in the end. Have some faith in me."

She took a deep, shuddering breath and said, "Alright. I suppose it's only fitting that since I took the Vow for you that I reject it for the same reason….I'm ready when you are."

Severus paid for their meal, silencing Marian's protest with a quelling look, and then he snaked an arm around her waist and Apparated to Grimmauld Place. Marian looked up at him in surprise. "Lupin is staying here," he said, correctly interpreting the question in her eyes.

"Oh," she murmured, calling out, "Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place." She watched as the vast house squeezed its way into existence, and raised her small fist to knock on the door, but Severus grasped her hand before she could land the blow. Marian gave him a curious look and saw excitement emanating from every line of his lean face.

"I remembered!" he whispered.

"What did you remember?" she asked in bemusement, leaning indolently against the door jamb to watch him.

"Where I had heard that name—_Lorraine Suchet_. It was in a biography of the seventeenth-century dark wizard, Lothair the Invisible, who became Vizier to the French crown. The book mentioned that he had pursued the celebrated beauty 'Lorraine Suchet', who was notorious for her many love affairs, but who died on her wedding day under mysterious circumstances-after rejecting Lothair to marry into English nobility," Severus recalled triumphantly.

"So Lothair gave a lethal wedding gift. I guess he didn't take rejection well," she muttered.

"Whoever the girl was, he obviously didn't deserve her if he cared so little for her happiness," Severus replied, gazing at her with intensity.

I have heard of Lothair—I think I've run into some of his spells before," she murmured, eyes downcast.

"We still use several of them—he was the inventor of the standard cloaking charm….But his more dangerous spells never made it into the textbooks. They can probably only be located in the original texts," he continued in a quick staccato, eyes still alight with the thrill of discovery.

Marian began pacing and said thoughtfully, "St. Mungo's library is massive. It's possible that a copy exists there. If not, I'll have get it from Paris….I never thought I'd say this, but thank goodness most wizards have forgotten their history. Otherwise, his writings might have been destroyed as 'dark' under the Ministry crackdowns of the past couple years."

She glanced up at him in delight and grasped his hands in rapture, exclaiming, "You clever, brilliant, remarkable man! I'd bet everything that you've just saved that child's life. I could have hunted forever for the right spell—it could have been anything invented at any time at any point in history—up to 1620 anyway. But an inventor of hexes like Lothair—he would have used a curse he had devised himself, especially for something so personal….Let's get back to St. Mungo's and see what we can find out!"

She tugged at his hands, practically skipping in her hurry to seek out the curse and begin crafting an antidote. Severus didn't budge, and she finally left off her futile pulling, and looked at his face, where his eyes glimmered with mirth. "Not so fast," he said authoritatively. We came here for a reason, remember?"

"Can't we do it later?" she wheedled.

"No. It must be now. We may not get another chance….Just think of it this way: I have potentially saved you hours of hard labor, so now you can spend a few of those regained minutes doing something for me," he answered uncompromisingly.

Beaten, she nodded ruefully, and reveled in the fleeting warmth of his body as he leaned over her to rap on the door. It was thrown open a few moments later by a shirtless and rather impressively-built Sirius, whose face lit up with excitement when he saw Marian, but twisted into a grimace when he noticed Snape behind her.

Marian smiled at him apologetically, "Hi, Sirius. Sorry to barge in on you like this, but it's kind of important. We need to see Remus. Is he here?" she asked.

Severus wore an impassive expression, but for a moment Sirius looked as if he was about to insult him anyway. After a few moments of hesitation, his curiosity finally won out and he ushered them inside. "Yes, he's here," he said with a sigh, and turned back into the house. "Moony!" he shouted, and then added in a more moderate tone, "_Marian_, would you like something to drink?"

She demurred, and he shrugged his shoulders and swaggered lazily over to pour something for himself, his low-slung pants revealing his hipbones and toned stomach. When Sirius turned his back, Marian and Severus rolled their eyes at each other in amusement over Sirius' blatant attempt to aggravate Snape. Sirius came back over to them, and watched Marian expectantly. After a few awkward moments, she said courteously, "Sirius, we need to go into your library, if that's alright. We've come to make an alteration to my Unbreakable Vow. You're welcome to join us if you'd like." She felt that he deserved a little information since they were using his house, after all.

The three of them entered the room, and were soon joined by Lupin, whose shaggy hair still dripped with water from the shower. Snape pointedly stared at the carpet where the water had dripped, and Lupin sighed resignedly, drying his head with his wand.

"We're here to undo the third portion of the Vow—you know the one I mean," Marian said, with a wary glance at Sirius.

"I was wondering how long it would take Severus to convince you. Actually, I expected to see you back here much sooner," Lupin said with a wan smile. It had been a couple of months and Marian had only seen him once in passing at the Weasleys. He looked tired and malnourished, and Marian sensed a melancholy about him that she didn't like. She emphatically sensed that he needed a woman. He needed Tonks. With her, he would be young again.

"Alright, are you both ready?" he asked, drawing his wand.

Sirius placed his cocktail on the table and draped himself across an easy chair in one graceful motion, curiously awaiting what was about to happen. Marian recognized Sirius as the kind of man that oozed sex. She couldn't determine exactly what was responsible for his appeal-pheromones, excellent genes, or his incredible body-but she subconsciously understood that he would be phenomenal in the bedroom. And yet, she felt remote from her aesthetic assessment of him. Sirius might have looks and charm, but she wanted _more_, and Severus Snape had this '_more_' in spades. She would value one handshake from Severus more than a thousand nights of love-making with Sirius. Severus had watched her as she clinically appraised Sirius' body, and tried not to show his jealousy and disquiet. He kept his expression slightly bored, and when Marian looked back in his direction, Severus gently took her hand. The two of them knelt in unison, robes mingling like a great swirling onyx and amethyst brooch.

Marian knelt so close to him that their knees touched, and her golden accessories glittered in the firelight. For a moment, Severus caught her familiar scent, the delicious, delicate mix of spices, and a tremor passed through his hand. Marian sought his eyes for an explanation, but he made no sign.

"Severus Snape," intoned Lupin in his quiet, gentle voice, "Do you release Marian Oliver from her Unbreakable Vow always to protect you from harm to the best of her ability and to keep faith with you no matter your fortunes?"

They heard Sirius snort in astonishment and disgust, but the three ignored him.

"I do," Severus answered firmly, and then something strange happened. A single strand of golden light emanated from Lupin's wand and encircled their hands, but it didn't go away. None of the people present had ever removed an Unbreakable Vow before and so they couldn't account for this hovering light, but after sharing an uneasy look with the others, Lupin proceeded with the ritual.

"Marian Oliver, do you repudiate your Unbreakable Vow always to protect Severus Snape from harm to the best of your ability and to keep faith with him no matter his fortunes?" he asked reticently.

"I do," she murmured, but didn't sound at all as though she meant it. All at once another strand of golden light poured from the tip of the wand, and joined the first in encircling their hands. After a few moments, it grew very bright and then vanished in a blinding flash of fire and beauty. When the spell released them, Marian crumpled forward into Snape. With exclamations of alarm, the other men darted forward as Snape pulled her easily into his lap and cradled her gently in his arms. He felt her pulse with long, white fingers and his eyes were dark with concern and guilt. He hovered protectively over her in a way that was unmistakable to the other two.

"She'll be alright in a few minutes, Severus. Apparently, she didn't mean her words. She still intends to do all the things she promised in the Vow," Lupin said soothingly, as though speaking to a cornered animal.

"Foolish girl," Severus muttered with rough tenderness.

Aghast, Sirius exclaimed, "So what does that mean? Is she still obligated to perform that obscene, horrifying excuse for a Vow? I knew she shouldn't make the Vow to Snape. I should have expected that he would slip something like this in for his benefit. I just can't believe that you went along with it, Moony."

"Stop it, Padfoot. It was Marian's idea. She had planned the whole thing in advance. When Severus realized what was happening, he tried to break away, but she had him in a vice grip for the few moments it took to swear the oath….Now try to control yourselves for a few minutes while I look for a book on Unbreakable Vows. I don't know how to explain that light….It's probably nothing, but I'd still like to know what it means," Lupin said.

Severus ignored him, lifting Marian cautiously and placing her on the sofa, positioning a pillow under her head. He began to cast rapid diagnostic spells over her limp form, but it appeared that nothing was wrong. Her cheeks were suffused with rose and her breathing was soft and regular. After pausing for several moments and getting no reply, Lupin walked away, passing several rows of bookcases, out of hearing distance. It appeared that Lupin knew the Black library well—probably even better than its owner.

Sirius swirled his drink idly, watching Severus with the look of a rather cruel child that has just found a bug struggling about on its back, unable to right itself.

After a moment, Sirius spoke up, affecting a light, conversational tone, "Oh, incidentally, Moony told me that he knows for a fact that she's in love with another man. Just thought you should know."

"I can't imagine why you think that's of any concern to me," Snape answered frigidly, refusing to take the bait.

Unwilling to be put off, Sirius swallowed the rest of his drink in one messy gulp and dropped the glass carelessly on the polished cherry table. He sat forward, eying Snape maliciously.

"It concerns you because you want her. You want her desperately. I'm surprised you didn't put something in the Vow about 'servicing you' or 'fulfilling all your needs'," Sirius gloated.

Snape never took his eyes from Marian's face and answered in tones that dripped with acid, "If I recall correctly, _you're_ the one that has been rather insistent in that regard. You're very much mistaken in projecting your own weaknesses onto your betters."

Interrupting, Sirius drawled, "I don't think I'm mistaken at all. I've always been very good at reading you. I was born with a gift for making you miserable."

"Regrettably, that appears to be your only talent," Snape said distantly, noticing that Marian's glossy hair had spilled over the side of the sofa and that the ends barely brushed the carpet.

Sirius was stymied. Ordinarily, Snape's temper would have flared long before this. He wondered why he wasn't getting through to him, and decided to turn up the heat a little. Although Sirius lacked Snape's utter brilliance, he was still an uncommonly clever man, and he knew from experience that there were many ways to hurt Severus Snape. He still had many different tacks left to try before he would concede defeat.

Sneeringly, Sirius began, "What can you possibly imagine you have to offer her? You're a Death Eater that teaches children—no, _bullies_ children. You strut around the school like you're some kind of misunderstood genius, but you teach the same lesson plan every term. With every year that passes, your brain stagnates and your personality sours a little bit more….Oh wait," Sirius said mockingly, tilting his head as he pretended to remember something, "You've finally been given the Dark Arts position this year—it must be _very_ exciting for you. I imagine it was frustrating that the man you worked under for over a decade didn't find you worthy of the post, even though you continued expectantly to apply for it every year. I hear that you really _were_ a last resort—it must have especially stung the year Remus was chosen over you as the better candidate.

"In fact, rumor has it that the only reason Dumbledore gave it to you this year was to keep the Ministry from claiming precedent and placing another one of their agents in the school. But still, I suppose it doesn't matter _why_ you got it. I guess that now that your 'career' is on track, you're thinking about finding a wife to move down into the dungeons with you, to populate them with greasy little brats of your own. And you'd have someone to take with you to Death Eater socials….Well, too bad for you that Marian is too smart for that. Can you imagine her—a scholar, an adventurous world-traveler, settling down with you to play the little housewife? ….Neither can I—and I think it's safe to say-neither can she."

Severus didn't interrupt, but cast him a look of withering contempt. He had been kneeling on the floor next to Marian, hearing all of the insults that the other man leisurely tossed at him from his indolent pose in his armchair; and, try as he might to ignore him, the words twisted in his gut like a fiery hook. He wanted to fight, to curse Black until that handsome face was unrecognizable, but he was more concerned about what was wrong with Marian. He didn't dare start something while she lay vulnerable to any stray spell or bit of broken furniture.

Both men started when Marian's icy voice broke in upon their tête-à-tête. "I see that Bellatrix isn't the only one in your family with a touch of sadism," she said angrily.

Sirius blushed and looked abashed for a moment, but only a moment. He quickly regained his self-possession and said innocently, "Just an unpleasant discussion between old schoolfellows. You must have come in at the tail-end of it. Too bad you didn't hear the things Snape was saying to me. If you had, maybe you wouldn't judge me so harshly….It's good to see you awake again, sweetheart. You gave us quite a turn passing out like that."

Marian raised her eyebrows at his term of endearment and said vehemently, "I'm pretty sure I got the gist of your 'conversation'….And for the record, you don't know a _thing_ about women. To a woman in love, it would be no hardship to follow Severus down to the dungeons-to the ends of the earth, or into the mouth of hell."

Sirius lacked Severus' icy self-possession and began to lose his temper, "So _are_ you in love with the greasy bat? Is _that_ what you're saying?"

If she had been less furious, Marian would have been embarrassed at being called out and having her secret threatened, but as it was, her anger protected her and she replied disdainfully, "I have a rule. I never talk about sacred things like love with someone incapable of understanding."

Sirius shot up in his seat and exclaimed incredulously, "You don't think I'm capable of love? Do you really mean that? How dare you make such an assumption!"

"Knock it off, Sirius," she said irritably, "What do you expect me to think? I can only work with what you give me and what you've shown me of yourself makes me think that _no_, you have _not_ ever known what it is to truly love. If nothing changes in you, you will probably never be capable of real love."

Even if Sirius hadn't realized it, Severus _had_ been cut to the heart by the things he had said to him. Sirius' words had only echoed things he had long suspected on his own. But to hear Marian taking up for him was balm to his soul. So he didn't interfere. He let her take the reins and watched Sirius with narrowed eyes and one hand on his wand. Merlin help Sirius if he grew rough with Marian.

Marian had paused for breath but soon continued, too furious to stop, "I suppose that emotion you feel towards yourself is as close as you've ever gotten to the real thing—but even that isn't quite it. Real love requires sacrifice….Is love what you felt for your friend, Remus, when you tried to_ feed_ Severus to him? ...I like you, Sirius. _Everyone_ does. You're charming. But you generally don't use your powers for good. I seem to remember hearing about a group of four well-to-do purebloods that you headed called the 'Marauders', whose primary mission was terrorizing an isolated boy that just _happened_ to be the most talented child at the school. What was the story? Did you feel _threatened_ by him? By his academic success?"

"Enough!" Sirius roared, "Snape has _never_, at _any_ time, been more talented than me. And our vendetta has _nothing_ to do with blood purity and _everything_ to do with the fact that he has always been a rotten little sneak with a thirst for the Dark Arts. But as usual, he gave you his version of events and you swallowed it without question—never bothering to get _my_ side of the story."

"Severus has told me nothing! He has better things to do than malign you to me. I have all my information by watching and listening to _your_ sympathizers….I wish you would realize that the two of you aren't in competition," Marian snapped.

"Is that_ true_, Marian? Are we_ really_ not in competition?" Sirius asked in soft, heated tones, heavy with insinuation.

Severus had remained kneeling beside the sofa, listening to the back-and-forth. He had never realized that Marian had heard so much about his past. Generally, he would have been ashamed to have someone know about his suffering at the hands of the Marauders. Even though outnumbered, he had never been easy prey. Severus Snape was not weak, had never been weak. But Marian seemed to feel his hurts as though they were her own. She was completely on his side, not just posturing, or putting up a token resistance to Sirius, but one hundred percent in Severus' camp.

Marian jerked upright, feeling too exposed in her prone position. Severus gently helped her sit up, partly shielding her with his body, and Sirius snarled incongruously, "Get your hands off! You don't have any right to paw at her."

Severus leapt to his feet, his features twisted with loathing; and looked down his hooked nose at Sirius, who also stood, body tensed aggressively. But both men paused in their actions when Marian blurted out without thinking, "He has _every_ right to touch me."

The two stared at her with shocked expressions, but before they could start casting hexes or demand that Marian explain herself, Remus suddenly appeared in their midst, carrying two large tomes. He looked between the three warily and said reproachfully, "Please stop this. There is a lady present."

Snape chanced a sidelong glance at Marian, but Sirius maintained his stance, fingers twitching towards his wand. Remus continued, "After all, Sirius. They are guests in your home….Don't all of you want to know what I've found?"

"Owl us," Marian said, rising to take Severus' arm.

"Wait a moment," Severus said quietly, placing his hand over hers to detain her, completely ignoring Sirius' fury, "What happened to her? Is she in any danger? And what about the Vow? Is it truly broken?"

Remus sighed and placed the closed books down on the coffee table, where they were promptly ignored by the others. "I was right before," he related, "She passed out because there was incongruity between her words and her intent. She is released of the Vow, but the magic sensed that she still desired to carry out what she had promised. It didn't free her as easily as it might have had she wanted to be rid of it, and the sudden surge of magical energy caused her to lose consciousness for a few minutes—but she should suffer no ill-effects."

"What about the light?" he prodded.

Remus suddenly looked a bit shifty. He sighed and said dismissively, "That light was only an indicator. It doesn't actually affect either of you, so it is nothing to worry about."

"An indicator of _what_?" Snape pursued impatiently.

"I'm not sure I should tell-" Remus broke off when he caught Severus' withering glance.

"Alright," he continued, "The gold lights indicate that _anothe_r bond exists between you."

"What do you mean? Has Snape made her swear _another_ oath?" Sirius exclaimed, disliking being overlooked by the others.

Remus favored Severus and Marian with an apologetic glance and pulled his worn blue dressing gown closer around himself. He said carefully, "No—not another Unbreakable Vow. Another kind of bond—it could indicate a strong friendship or, er, romantic attachment. But the gold color denoted selflessness. Apparently, the magic revealed that Severus' motive for breaking the Vow was to protect Marian. When a second gold band appeared, it showed that Marian had intended to protect him when she took the Vow and that her intention hadn't changed."

Disgusted, Sirius stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20: The Cure

Severus sent Lupin a rather distracted nod and led Marian outside. Without even a pause, he Apparated them to Marian's house, causing her to stumble slightly and cling to him.

Marian eyed him warily; noticing that they most certainly were _not_ at St. Mungo's and walked over to the sideboard, asking, "Would you like something to drink?"

Severus seemed strangely imposing to her, as he prowled about her sitting area. He had an interesting presence. Marian realized that he was a very powerful man, easily able to steal the scene, but who also possessed a curious ability to blend into the shadows. He was at home on the outskirts—always advisor, never king.

"No, thank you. I didn't come here to stay," he replied finally.

"Neither did I," Marian quipped.

He shot her a look that made her instantly feel sorry for whatever students happened to be the recipients of it when they were caught in the school corridors at night.

"I thought we were headed to St. Mungo's," she amended.

"You were just rendered unconscious by a burst of magical energy. You need to rest tonight. The case will wait until morning," he said decidedly.

"I'm fine! You heard Remus….I need to get back to the hospital. Time is a factor," Marian argued, and attempted to push past him, but he blocked her way. She could have simply Disapparated, but she would never be that rude to Severus.

"It's already late," he rejoined, gently placing his elegant hands on her shoulders.

"But I do my best work at night," she confided.

Severus stilled and Marian saw a flash of something in his eyes. He dropped his hands immediately and stepped away from her—and yet Marian sensed that it wasn't anger that had flooded his pale cheeks with color.

At last, in a dark, caressing voice he said, "Not tonight, you don't."

Marian fully intended to go to St. Mungo's the moment he left, and saw no point in arguing further about it. She had never reacted well to being told what to do. When she was younger, she had joined the American Auror training program. Even though her friends and family had thought it was a poor fit for her, she had decided to try it out to bring some excitement to her life. She had been sick to death of haunting the library, although that was where she felt most comfortable.

Almost immediately, Marian realized that Auror training was not for her. She loathed being ordered to do inane tasks, even though she saw that the purpose was to make the candidates band together and grow used to following instructions. But Marian had never been a fan of teamwork, and she never developed the mentality of a soldier. She always felt remote and never stopped thinking like an individual, like a disinterested outsider. She chafed to go off on her own, to follow her own ideas. Auror training stifled her creative spirit.

Out of pride, she had remained until basic training ended—just so that she could say she left because she wanted to, rather than because she couldn't hack it. Contracting was a much better career for her. For a fleeting moment, she wondered how Dumbledore had known how to deal with her. Of course, he must have researched her, but still….She wondered if he had foreseen that she would choose to take care of Severus. Somehow, she doubted it.

Her problem with following orders also helped to keep her single. Marian despised weak men, but whenever she dated a dominant, opinionated man, she quickly grew frustrated. She sensed that she was the slier and more competent one-and this made it difficult for her to fall into line and do things someone else's way. Part of the overwhelming attraction Severus had for her was the fact that she recognized him to be her superior in nearly every area. She trusted his discernment, wisdom, knowledge, courage, cleverness…the list went on and on. She could accept the leadership of a man like Severus, even though he had very definite ideas, because his logic usually made sense. His plans were usually better than hers, and on the off-chance that they weren't, he was willing to be reasonable—except where her safety was concerned.

And even though Marian would have obeyed him without question when it came to most things, she felt that he underestimated her strength and power and reasoned that, since he didn't know how effective she actually was, he was not in possession of all the variables. He was therefore unqualified to form an opinion on whether or not she should go burn the midnight oil trying to break the curse that threatened Katie Bell's life.

So she didn't argue with him, but deftly changed the subject. She asked quietly, "Are you upset about earlier? About Sirius?"

He had wandered over to a rickety old curio cabinet with an open face and was examining a curious jade statue with his long, crafty fingers. He scowled and put it down carefully before saying, "I stopped giving credence to anything that drunken fool said long ago."

"I'm glad," Marian replied evenly, and then added impulsively, "I heard most of the things he said tonight….He has a mean streak that he seems to reserve just for you. If I hadn't heard him for myself, I would have had trouble believing that anyone would be that cruel without provocation."

"Just forget about it, Marian—I have. It's nothing. We have a long history. I won't deny that I despise him. He and his…_pals_ made my childhood miserable…but you need not pity me. I am not a kind man. I'm sure your friends wasted no time in telling you that when he was on the run from Azkaban, I caught him and tried to give him to the Dementors to be kissed."

"But you thought he was a traitor and a mass murderer!" Marian protested hotly.

"I did—but I…doubted. Lupin and the children claimed they had evidence that would exonerate him, but I wouldn't listen. I wanted to see him destroyed, and it was…easier to do what I intended to do if I thought he was guilty," Severus confessed to her haltingly.

She walked softly towards him and looked at his pale face, framed with its lank, unstylish hair. She paused when she was near enough to reach out and touch him, had she dared, and exclaimed, "And yet-you're still worth a hundred Sirius Blacks."

"Marian, don't say such things. There's so much that you don't know about me," he replied, an expression of pain flashing across his face.

"Severus, stop. You are no saint, but you're a man that anyone would look up to," she said smilingly, trying to cheer him up. Severus was a melancholy man, and he needed more warmth in his life, so Marian tried to keep their encounters as light-hearted as possible, which was sometimes difficult for two such intense people.

He almost smiled back at her, although it was only the shadow of a smile, and it vanished before she could be certain it was there at all. As he swept purposefully towards the door, she called out, "Would you mind if I owled you with questions about the case?"

"By all means, owl away. I should be very curious to hear what you find out about Lothair—_tomorrow_," he stressed.

"Goodnight, Severus. And thanks for everything….Oh, incidentally," she murmured, when he had already reached the door, long black robes swishing silently as he moved, "Draco Malfoy did it, didn't he?"

He spun around and regarded her with a look that was almost guilty. "Why do you ask me such things? You know I cannot tell you," he replied, but there was something odd about his answer—so much suppressed energy. For one wild moment, it occurred to Marian that the answer to her question greatly concerned him, and that he wanted to discuss it more than anything.

"It's alright," she replied matter-of-factly, as she followed him over to the door, "You don't have to tell me. I know the boy's a Death Eater. It _had_ to have been him. I realize that you have to shield him and have enough on your plate, so don't worry about any interference from me."

He said nothing by way of reply, but his eyes glimmered with something pleasant, and, with a courteous nod, he Disapparated. Marian waited a few moments to be sure he was actually gone, and then she Apparated to the front entrance of St. Mungo's. It was only a little after nine o'clock, and in Marian's book, the night was still young. She wanted to save Katie Bell, and couldn't bear the possibility of that child dying a painful death while she lazed about and caught up on sleep, even if she did have the very flattering excuse that Severus was worried about her.

When she first arrived in front of the hospital, she carefully glanced around her, and was just secretly congratulating herself on giving Severus the slip when a tall form materialized out of the shadows, and she heard the unmistakable, ironic drawl that she had loved from the first moment she'd heard it, "_Well_…look who it is."

"Severus!" she exclaimed, meeting his slightly mocking, slightly exhilarated expression, "I'm a grown woman! Besides, I never _agreed_ to go to bed."

For a moment, she had the distinct impression that he was enjoying their cat-and-mouse game. In smooth, deceptively soft tones, he said, "You certainly let me think that you were headed in that direction."

"Just because I had absolutely no intention of doing what you told me, doesn't mean that I had any desire to rub your nose in that fact," she said haughtily, trying to regain her poise.

She caught the glimmer of a smirk, and he replied, "Or perhaps you didn't let me know because you were afraid I'd _make_ you go to bed."

Marian strolled towards Severus, who currently stood beside the entrance to the hospital. There was no traffic in and out at the moment, although they could see the brightly-lit reception area and people milling about. "I think you're either underestimating me, or overestimating yourself. You might get me into bed, but you wouldn't be able to keep me there," she baited, and held her breath to see what he would do.

"No, my dear. I think _you're_ underestimating _me_. I can think of all sorts of ways to keep you _tied up_," he purred, and Marian flushed.

"That is no way to talk to a lady," she said in mock-seriousness, although there was nothing pretend about the color that currently stained her cheeks, which Severus took note of with satisfaction.

He didn't try to stop her when she opened the door, and she cocked an eyebrow at him in invitation, and after a moment where he pretended to debate with himself, he followed her in. Secretly, he wanted to work on the case as much as she did—if not more. It was a thrill to be out of the castle and working on something challenging and important. Also, it was _his_ idea they were following up. And he couldn't help the guilt that gnawed at him over Katie Bell. He felt that if he had kept a better watch on Draco after the incident with the poisoned mead, or had been more persuasive in getting the boy to trust him and tell him his plans that none of this would have happened. And it didn't hurt that he got to spend more time with Marian, either….Although that too was bittersweet. He treasured the time they spent together, but those opportunities were few and far between. Even when they had laughed together and strolled arm-in-arm—like something out of a dream, he had been worrying about the future—about what would happen when Dumbledore was dead, about his Vow to Narcissa Malfoy.

As they walked down the bright, artificially-lit corridors, Marian glanced at Severus and murmured, "I'm glad we're not fighting….And I'm glad the night's not over….By the way, how did you know I would be coming back here?"

Severus' eyes glittered in his pale face and he said, "It was obvious. You didn't wish to lie to me, so you carefully avoided agreeing to my request. When I couldn't get even a 'Very well' out of you, I became resigned to the fact that you would return to the hospital the moment I Disapparated."

She looked guilty for a moment and responded, "Well, you read that one right. I'll bet you're the terror of Hogwarts for children out of bed on your patrol nights."

He shrugged his shoulders in affirmation, and she laughed out loud. "We all have our talents, and it appears that mine is catching students wandering the corridors after dark," he admitted ruefully.

As they entered the abandoned library, she caught up his hand in happiness at being with him and said slyly, "If I remember correctly, you have _lots_ more talents than that."

She cast a rapid glance towards the archives that left him in no doubt as to her meaning, and it was his turn to flush, although she missed it when she let his warm, beautiful hand slide through her fingers and turned to call, "Accio, texts by Lothair!"

Immediately, a handful of books thudded onto the table in front of them. Excitedly, they began to sort through them, but after a moment, Severus pushed his stack to the side and muttered, "They're not here. These are all the wrong 'Lothairs'."

Marian sighed, and with a wave of her hand sent all of them back to their places. "The originals must all be in Ste. Jeanne's. Trust the bloody French not to share," she pouted.

"The hospital at Paris? How long should it take you to obtain them?" Severus asked dubiously.

She hung her head and sighed, "If we ordered the books, it could take months to receive them. The British didn't exactly strike a blow for international cooperation when they decided to expel all the foreigners. Even if everyone was willing to jump to get us what we ask for, you know how bureaucracy is. We would have to set up a meeting with St. Mungo's administrators to send a petition to the British government, which would have to put a request through to the French government, which would have to notify the hospital, and then our request would sit on some idiot's desk until Katie Bell had time to either die or recover, grow old, and have children. Unfortunately, I've dealt with this issue before. It's entirely too infuriating to go through the proper channels…so I'm not going to."

"Surely you don't intend to break in?" he asked, trying to sound like the voice of reason, but secretly filled with anticipation.

Marian began pacing and said, "I'll make a Portkey. That will only take a minute—I've been to Ste. Jeanne's before…. I'll take the Portkey, cast a Disillusionment Charm on myself, and somehow get through their security. You can go back to Hogwarts and I'll contact you in the morning."

"No doubt you'd be contacting me from a cell in a French prison. Nice try, Marian. But I think I'll come along, if it's all the same to you. After all, I've never had a problem with _St. Mungo's_ security…and from what I've seen of them, the French hardly surpass us," he said firmly.

She smiled up at him; the admiration in her eyes making his stomach swoop in a pleasant and entirely unfamiliar way. "I was just giving you an out. But I could really use your skills….You don't know how pleased I am that you're game for this. Somehow, I never pegged you for the breaking-and-entering type," Marian said unrepentantly, busying herself with making two Portkeys out of a couple of knuts she had found in her pocket.

"Why not?" he murmured ruefully, "It's not all that far off from espionage."

"True," she responded, looking up at him with a grin. She loved having him as a co-conspirator. His daring, shrewdness and delicious irony made him an ideal companion, as far as Marian was concerned. She wished she were bold enough to kiss him again. She picked up one of the knuts with the fold of her cloak to keep it from touching her skin and held it out to him, saying, "Hold your pocket open. I made Portkeys for both of us, just in case we get separated. It isn't set to a timer, but will transport you any time. It's activated by touching your skin."

"I suppose you used the same method when you rescued Black….As clever as it is, my Portkey is superfluous, because we will not get separated," he said decisively, but allowed her to slip it into his pocket anyway.

"Are you ready?" she asked moments later.

He nodded, taking her arm proprietarily and looking at her cryptically before purring, "I'm very glad you're not one of my students. I'll bet you're impossible to control."

She stroked his forearm with her thumb and replied archly, "Oh, I _am_. And I'm very glad that you're not my teacher….You know, you're_ very_ attractive when you're up to no good, Professor Snape."

And with that, she suddenly grasped the Portkey and they reappeared in an alleyway next to the French hospital for magical maladies. Severus looked around, while Marian reprogrammed her used Portkey to match the one in Severus' pocket. Now both devices would take them directly to her office. Satisfied, she dropped the refreshed Portkey into a small pouch camouflaged by the folds of her skirt.

He had waited patiently for her to finish, and finally drew his wand, which was long and inflexible, composed of a dark, close-grained wood that Marian suspected might be birch. With a quick, elegant motion of his wand, Severus suddenly disappeared. Marian felt the pressure of a warm, invisible hand clasping one of hers, and sensed the cold trickle of his Disillusionment Charm as it licked over her. He gave a gentle tug, and they began walking. In hardly any time, they arrived at the entrance of the hospital. Ste. Jeanne's looked completely different from St. Mungo's. Even though both hospitals were completely state-of-the-art on the inside, Ste. Jeanne's had the outward appearance of a Muggle museum, with beautiful Gothic facades that harkened back to the golden age of magic.

The two of them waited by the entrance for nearly ten minutes before a middle-aged couple exited, causing the main doors to open wide enough for Severus and Marian to slither inside. She had been afraid that she wouldn't be able to keep up with Severus, now that they were both invisible. She thought he would wax impatient to find their goal and take longer, quicker strides than she was accustomed to making, but Marian needn't have worried. He seemed even more solicitous than usual, and the two of them prowled soundlessly through the halls. Severus guided her with gentle pressure and seemed to match her pace effortlessly. Marian had the incongruous thought that he would make a fine dancer; he had an uncanny ability to lead with a thought and the slightest touch.

Both of them were scholars and knew several languages, French being no great challenge for them. They followed the signs to the library, and paused outside the deceptively delicate glass doors that led to the vast darkened room. Marian heard the nearly-silent swish of Severus' wand, and she knew that he was casting spells with the hand that wasn't currently entwined with hers. Occasionally one of his spells would emit a flash of light, but the corridor was deserted and she wasn't terribly concerned about being spotted. Eventually, the door swung open silently and she passed through at Severus' behest.

The moment they walked inside, the lights came on. Severus lifted the Disillusionment Charm and met Marian's worried look for a moment before he fired a spell at the door that turned the glass panes black. Hopefully, no light would escape from around the door and the room would still appear to be dark to any passersby.

"We have to hurry," he whispered.

Marian nodded and whispered, "_Accio_, texts by Lothair."

Immediately, ten books sailed towards them from different parts of the library. Three came from farther away than the others, and when they landed on the table in front of them, the pair heard the beginning of a faint, high-pitched wailing.

"_Damn it_," Severus whispered fiercely, "They must have a restricted section with separate alarms and we've just triggered one….It should take a while before anyone makes it all the way down here to check. The French are even more paternalistic than we are, so I'm almost certain that no Apparition is allowed on the premises."

She nodded at him and began replicating the books, feverishly casting spells to magically transcribe and shrink them, before sending the originals back to their proper places. It took her a moment to notice that Snape wasn't helping, that he was preoccupied with pulling _more_ books from the shelves with his wand, and leaving them scattered about the table turned to certain pages. She secured the shrunken books in her dress pocket and noticed suddenly that all of the pages opened on the table showed rather graphic nude photos. She cocked an eyebrow at Severus and he murmured, "Just tying up loose ends. Let security find these and they'll assume they've discovered the reason for the break-in."

She smirked and whispered tauntingly, "Lucky for us that you knew _exactly_ which books would give the desired impression—and which pages."

He rolled his eyes in mock frustration and pulled her body flush against his as he reached for the Portkey in his pocket, causing her to gasp in surprise. "_For your information_, I just summoned several copies of the same anatomy books we have at Hogwarts. I am always catching students lingering over some of the more _well-marked_ pages," he answered drily, not realizing that his silky voice so close to Marian's ear was doing sinful things to her body. She was struggling to focus on making her reply when they both heard footsteps come to a stop directly outside the door, and then Severus touched his Portkey and they were back in England, back in Marian's small office, as if their short adventure had never happened.

He released her reluctantly, and she stepped away from him, laughing breathlessly at their success. She pulled the books from her pocket and touched the Portkey in the process to deactivate it, but it didn't affect her because she already stood in the place it was meant to transport her. She dropped the volumes on the table with a thud and returned them to their original size with a thought. She immediately separated the three that had come from the restricted area, thinking that these would be more likely to contain lethal spells. After a moment, Marian noticed that Severus was just standing there watching her, and the look in his velvet eyes made her heartbeat quicken and her breathing grow unsteady.

"What is it?" she asked in bemusement, cocking her head to look at him, but avoiding the intensity of his eyes, instead keeping her gaze on his neck and lower, where the man merged with the deep black teaching robes that encompassed him in their heavy folds all the way from his throat to the floor, without even a spot of color. But even the robes agitated her, because she longed for the body of the man they concealed.

He certainly didn't help matters when he purred, in his deeply sexy, cultured voice, "Intrigue suits you, my dear."

Marian sat at the table and busied herself going through the spell books, trying to hide her slightly shaking hands and to concentrate on the writing, which was sometimes Classical Latin, sometimes Middle French, and sometimes a weird, medieval mishmash of the two. She didn't dare look at Severus again. It frightened her how much she wanted him sometimes. Thank Merlin he didn't seem to realize the extent of his power. But for her, his tone, his glance was so potent that it was enough to spark a wildfire inside her. She hardly knew herself; she was so uncontrollably in love with him.

He joined her at the table and paged through with practiced movements. They sat reading together for nearly two hours, the silence unbroken save for the occasional exclamation or snort of disbelief, and the quiet scratching of quills. Marian glanced up at Severus. He was in his element, his keen eyes devouring the pages. She was almost jealous of them. What she wouldn't give to bask in that intensity, to be the focus of his formidable concentration. Marian shivered. But a moment later, she glanced at the clock and realized that it was already one in the morning. She felt a prick of guilt when she realized that Severus had spent so much time working on _her_ case. He had his own responsibilities, after all. He probably even had to be up early the next day.

She hesitated to disturb him, because it annoyed her to no end when others interrupted her own reading, but she finally ventured to call his name softly. His head snapped up, and he queried, "You've found something?"

"No. Not yet, but I was thinking-you should go home," she said solicitously, continuing to speak in spite of his exasperated sigh, "It's getting late. You've gone above and beyond tonight. I can keep working on this and sleep when the curse is broken, but you need to take your rest now—I doubt you'll be able to tomorrow."

He laid his quill down on the page and looked up at her, a little amused that only a few hours had passed and their positions were already reversed. Now_ she_ was the one telling _him_ to go to bed. He cleared his throat slightly and replied, "Marian, I intend to give this my attention for the rest of the weekend. It is true that I have a few minor, soul-rotting duties back at the school, but Dumbledore's highest priority is saving this student's life. He sent me to St. Mungo's with the intention that I assist in the investigation.

"We may be very close to finding the curse Lothair used, and then hopefully it won't be long until we're able to devise an appropriate counter-curse. I'm used to working at all hours of the night; although, to tell the truth, my work is usually much more banal than this. Sleep is one of the many luxuries I'm rarely able to enjoy. But if you wish to rest, you needn't stay on my account."

"No. I had absolutely no intention of going to bed. But I didn't want you missing out on your opportunity to recharge because I was holding you prisoner here and having you do my work for me," Marian answered with a smile. He met it with a glimmer of warmth in his eyes and they both went back to work with a will. Some of the spells were extremely fascinating, and Marian marked them to take a look at later. Judging by all the quill-scratching taking place on the other side of the table, Marian guessed that Severus was doing the same thing. Collaborating with him on this project, huddling with him over old spell books in the middle of the night in an attempt to unravel their secrets, made Marian feel happy and completed to a degree that she felt was almost indecent, considering that a girl's life was on the line. But she couldn't help it.

His companionship was what she had been missing all her long bachelor life. She had never known that she was missing him, because she had never dreamed of what the camaraderie of a man like this might be like. Ms. Bear was dear to her, and her friends were wonderful, but there was just something special about Severus. He was a kindred spirit, someone that operated on a higher plain. He was so clever and versatile that he constantly surprised and impressed her. And his presence comforted her.

They read for another half-hour, when suddenly, Severus reached out and touched her hand in excitement. "Look at this," he exclaimed, and handed his book across the table, marking the interesting spot with a long slender forefinger.

"_'Languissant d'amour'_," Marian read, and then translated it aloud, "Lovesick."

She skimmed the paragraph and gasped, "Severus! I think you're on to something. Amplified with the other curses, this would kill instantly, although on its own, it might not—it might only drag one to the point of death. 'She will languish and her body wither, as a lover fades away from longing, but never attaining,'" Marian read with horror, adding, "This _has_ to be it. It's the only spell I've come across that refers to a woman, or that sounds so…_personal_."

Immediately Marian began feverishly jotting down every possible counter-curse she could think of, and Severus came around the table to read over her shoulder, nodding and occasionally adding a suggestion. He was a clever wordsmith and an inventor of spells himself, so he was in his element, constantly coming up with possibilities that would potentially annul all three curses. When they sat back exhausted, their list was eleven pages long, but they felt pretty good about it. More likely than not, they had the correct counter-curse on the sheets in front of them. Both of them were old hands at curse-breaking.

"Do you want to take a quick break before we bring out the necklace to start testing? Would you like a drink?" Marian asked stretching her arms over her head and leaning her head back to get the kinks out of her neck, causing her long dark hair to fall in cascades of thick silk. In spite of everything, Severus still found it distracting. To him, famous beauties like Bellatrix LeStrange and Narcissa Malfoy could never compete with Marian. He wasn't exactly sure why. But Marian seemed sexier and more alluring than other women, and although she was sophisticated, she lacked the jaded look of most women of his acquaintance. After a moment he blinked and said, "Alright—I'll meet you back here in five minutes."

"Let's make it fifteen," Marian said, adding, "If you need it, the loo is next door. I need some caffeine. Would you like something to drink as well?"

"Alright. Whatever you're having," he replied, rising gracefully and pacing towards the door.

When Marian returned, he was already back in the room, adding a couple of last-minute touches to their list and doing some rapid Arithmantic calculations. He looked so…compelling when he was working. Marian levitated the package back to the middle of the table and set down two cups. When he didn't respond, she unwrapped the necklace and sat, watching him finish up as she sipped her drink slowly.

Distractedly, he reached out and took a sip from the straw, only to pop his head up in surprise at the cold, sweet creaminess and exclaim, "What on earth_ is_ this?"

"You hate it, don't you? It's a Muggle drink—a caramel frappuccino with non-fat milk, whipped cream and extra caramel drizzle. I've gotten rather addicted, and I wasn't going to get one of these decadent drinks for myself and then bring you a plain cup of black coffee….Although, if that's what you'd prefer, I can certainly make that happen," Marian said apologetically.

Severus took another experimental sip and appeared mollified. He answered cautiously, "No. This is…satisfactory."

But he drank it all, and Marian could tell that he relished it. She had a theory about Severus. She felt that he lived a life of self-denial—perhaps out of guilt, or perhaps because he saw luxury as weakness. He was a man of obviously sensitive and refined tastes, but who lived a monastic, Spartan existence. He rarely indulged in the good things and didn't appear to want to enjoy anything too much. She suspected that, in a way, Severus Snape didn't believe that he deserved the pleasures of life—that he felt they were reserved for others.

"Do you want to cast the spells, or should I?" he asked.

"Let's alternate every other page," Marian responded, her mind back on business.

He nodded curtly and began firing off spells. They moved through the first few pages rather quickly, exhausting the more obvious options. But neither of them was discouraged. They knew which three curses had been used, and had a fair idea of how they worked together and amplified one another. It was only a matter of time before they stumbled upon the answer.

When it came Marian's turn to cast, she didn't use a wand at all, and Severus raised his eyebrows in incredulity. Few witches and wizards would be capable of hurling so many spells without a wand—especially such potent counter-curses. At last, on page eight, Marian cast a spell that caused the necklace to shine for a moment with a bizarre, oily sheen, and then the light vanished and the object returned to normal. This was the first reaction of any kind that the two had gotten from the necklace, and they eagerly bent forward to look at it.

"Do you see?" Severus asked, his low voice throbbing with triumph, "the hint of green around the stones has vanished!"

"We have to be sure," she said, and transfigured her quill into a little brown mouse. At once, she felt sorry for it, because the mouse _did_ look rather cute, sitting on the table, twitching its whiskers in perplexity. Severus noticed her hesitation, and quickly took matters out of her hands, levitating the mouse into contact with the necklace. Nothing happened. The mouse peered at them with its beady black eyes and snuffled with its nose, searching for food.

With a wave of her hand, the mouse returned to its original form and the two looked at each other with suppressed excitement. "We need a human subject," Marian said hesitatingly.

"Where's Black when you need him?" Severus muttered.

Marian glanced up at him in amused reproach and reached out to touch the necklace. And then she found that she couldn't move at all. Her joints seemed to have frozen, and she felt Severus ease her gently backwards onto a sofa that hadn't been there a moment before. Filled with fury, Marian realized that he had placed her in the Full-Body Bind.

Moments later she found herself free and leapt to her feet to face an unapologetic Severus, who swung the treacherous necklace nonchalantly in one hand. "Severus Snape!" a horrified Marian shouted, "What were you thinking?"

"Someone had to test it, and it was just the two of us. We might have argued for the rest of the night about it, but in the end, I never would have allowed you to hazard your life when mine would do just as well, so let's say no more about it," Severus answered pragmatically.

"You—you sodding bastard! You might have died! I don't know whether to hex you or kiss you," she exclaimed, before she had time to measure her words.

"By all means, err on the side of mercy," he said silkily.

He stumbled slightly backwards in surprise when Marian suddenly launched herself into his arms, hugging him tightly and stroking his hair, his back. His hands ghosted hesitatingly over her shoulders as she clung to him. She nuzzled his neck, but regained command of herself and took a step back before she began frenziedly kissing him—it was a near thing, but she lost her nerve at the last moment. "Severus, I hate when you frighten me like that," she murmured.

Severus said nothing, only nodding, although his usually empty eyes sparkled with emotion. After a pause, his stoic demeanor returned and he beckoned for her to turn around so that he could clasp the newly-uncursed necklace around her long, slender throat. Marian hesitated for a moment. "I'm not sure I should wear it," she murmured, "It might not be appropriate….After all, it _has_ killed people. Besides Lorraine Suchet, at least nineteen Muggles have died of it-thanks to some Muggle-baiting by one of her husband's particularly sadistic descendants."

"Wear it tonight as a symbol of our triumph….And I'm not sure that this will make you feel any better, but most large gems and valuable jewelry have a history of murder," Severus said practically, in a half-hearted effort to appease her.

She smirked at him and said, "Severus, you're such a..._man_. And anyway, there's quite a bit of difference between a necklace that has changed hands through murder and a necklace that _actually_ murders people….But strap it on me anyway."

Marian turned around and lifted her hair out of the way, and he carefully placed the chain around her neck, his hands lingering on her bare collarbone. And then he adeptly fastened the antique catch, drinking in her scent and the petal-soft feel of her skin. His cool fingers sent a wave of fire sweep through her, from head to toe. Trying to hide her obvious lust, Marian stepped away from him the moment he finished and said flippantly, "Well, what do you think?"

He tilted his head critically and asked, "Who would have thought that such a little thing could contain so much evil?"

"I know. It doesn't seem possible, does it?" Marian replied distractedly, fingering the lovely opal necklace, that she secretly thought complemented her purple attire rather well.

"I wasn't talking about the necklace—I meant you," Severus smirked, feeling surprisingly light-hearted.

"Hey!" Marian exclaimed laughingly, and reached out to slap at him, but he caught her hand and held it, leading her out of her office and down the corridor, his lips twitching with amusement all the while.

When they reached Katie Bell's hospital room, all was quiet, and Severus finally released her hand. He pushed the door open silently and they immediately noticed a youngish, auburn-haired man dozing in the rather uncomfortable-looking bedside chair. A vase of daffodils graced the windowsill, although the blinds were closed, blocking the view of the night sky. When they allowed the door to click shut behind them, the man stirred and peered blearily at them through delicately-balanced spectacles.

"Hey, you're the curse-breaker, aren't you?" he asked groggily, sitting up to give them his full attention.

She nodded and answered, "That's right," as she and Severus approached the bed to peer down at the girl.

"Any changes?" she asked the man.

"No. But her eyes keep moving behind her lids—like she's having a bad dream," he answered fretfully.

"I don't believe we've been introduced. I'm Marian Oliver, a curse-breaker, and you probably already know Professor Snape from school. He's an expert in many things, and curse-breaking is hardly the least of his talents. We _will_ cure Katie. Are you her father?" Marian queried gently, and the man brightened a bit.

"Yes. Paul Bell," he said, running a hand through his mussed hair. At that very moment, the young, sulky healer from several hours before suddenly arrived in the room, wand out in preparation to take diagnostic spells. When he laid eyes on Marian he exclaimed, "Sweet Merlin! You're wearing it! That's the necklace! The cursed necklace!"

"Not cursed anymore," Marian answered smoothly.

No longer worried about keeping things dark and quiet for his patient, the healer waved his wand and they blinked from the sudden brightness of the room. "Do you mean that you've done it? That she's going to be okay?" the father exclaimed, with a rather manic gleam in his eyes.

She nodded and approached Snape, who had hovered in the shadows, silently watching the scene unfold. "You do it," she murmured. He hesitated for a moment, looking at her as if to be certain, and then he waved his wand and began reciting the incantation they had used earlier on the necklace. His already magical voice was made for spell-casting, and Marian shivered with its power.

As soon as he finished, the four bent excitedly over the girl, and that was when Severus and Marian suffered their first real disappointment. Her color seemed slightly better, and she had lapsed into a quiet sleep, rather than the restless, torturous one from a few moments earlier, but there was no question that she was still under the curse. She would not wake, even when Severus cast an 'Ennervate', just in case. There was also a pinched, hungry look about her that they didn't like.

"We've removed the proto-cruciatus—no question about that. And the Higginsworth is also deactivated, so the third curse has lost much of its potency…but it still hasn't released," Severus muttered to Marian.

"Why would it remain active in the victim, when we've already vanquished it in the source?" Marian mused.

The other two looked as though they were bursting with questions and concern, but were savvy enough not to interrupt Severus and Marian's tête-à-tête. Severus had begun pacing in the confined space, and when the healer saw that no answers were immediately forthcoming, slipped over to the bed to rerun the same diagnostic tests Severus had done a few minutes before. He used an oddly-shaped quill to write down his results.

Marian watched Severus for a while, trying to focus on finding a solution rather than on her disappointment. She broke the silence after a few minutes and asked, "What if the reason that the counter-curse worked on the object but not on the victim is because we need an_ ingredient_, rather than another spell?"

Severus stopped mid-step and stared at her intently. So encouraged, she continued, "Because our spell was successful. The calculations were complete. Adding new words and more Arithmancy would only clutter it up. We found the right combination, but we need _something else_."

With an almost eerie calm, Severus answered, "_Blood_."

"What do you mean?" Marian asked curiously.

"_I'm_ supposed to be the Potions Master, but it took you pointing it out for me to see it. You're quite right—we _are_ missing an ingredient, and that ingredient is blood. That is the old standby when dealing with Dark Magic. The only question is: whose?" Severus muttered.

"Well, the inventor of the spell lost the girl, but he cursed her because he couldn't let her go—he still wanted control of her destiny. He wanted to be the only man with power over her. I say he thought his own blood could save her, and built in that loophole when devising the curse…but the closer it got to her wedding day, the more he realized that she wasn't going to change her mind and take him instead of her fiancé. I'll bet that it was only then that he added the Higginsworth to the mix. His anger got the better of him and he decided to kill her quickly, before she could spend even one night with her new husband," Marian responded pensively, her words coming thicker and faster the longer she spoke.

Severus spun around, his eyes glowing with approval and enthusiasm. "You clever girl. That's it!" he exclaimed.

The father had been trying to keep silent, hoping that these two experts would be able to figure out what had gone wrong if he gave them quiet in which to think, but he had reached the point where he could no longer contain himself. He had to have answers. "What girl are you talking about? And how do you know who invented the curse? Is he still alive? Can we get some of his blood?" he asked.

"The inventor has been dead for hundreds of years—but his blood wouldn't work in any case," Severus answered insensitively.

A panicked look appeared on Paul's face, but before he could fire any more questions, Marian interjected soothingly, "What Professor Snape means is that the blood of the inventor would have saved his first victim because he_ loved_ her. He thought that no other man could love her like he did, and assumed that none of her lovers would have the power to save her. The blood of this dark wizard would not save your daughter, because he never knew her and cares nothing for her. No—Katie Bell must be saved by the blood of someone that loves her. Someone that would willingly die for her—because that might very well happen if the donor's love isn't powerful enough to overcome the spell."

"That's right," Severus answered, "Would you care to try, or should we summon your wife instead?"

"How dare you! Of course I'll do it!" Paul flared up, but Severus just looked down his nose at him with a bored expression on his face.

"Excellent!" Marian replied, "Severus, would you mind making the incisions? I'll say the incantation."

He nodded wordlessly and gave a whispered order to the healer, who left the room with alacrity, still accustomed to obeying without question the commands of his former professor. The skinny, rather fussy little healer returned moments later carrying a bright, very sharp-looking knife. Severus took it from him dexterously and approached the bed, turning over the girl's limp right arm and positioning the knife over the palm. Without hesitation, he made a quick, shallow cut, about an inch long that immediately began oozing blood.

The father had approached the bed and never looked away from his daughter's face, his eyes swimming with love and compassion. He silently presented his palm to Severus and received a corresponding incision.

"Clasp hands, and don't let go until I tell you," murmured Severus.

Uncertainly, the man dropped to his knees beside the bed and grasped his child's hand, their blood mingling. Marian repeated the spell they had used earlier, the one that had almost been successful. This time, there was no mistaking their victory. The moment Marian uttered the words, Katie Bell opened her eyes and looked around her with confusion.

"Dad? _Professor Snape?"_ she whispered, eyes widening.

Marian looked at her kindly and said, "Welcome back. You were the victim of a nasty curse—three actually, but you're completely healed now and should suffer no ill-effects. You're free to go home whenever you like."

Then she turned to the healer and said authoritatively, "This case is closed. You may discharge her whenever it is convenient."

He nodded with relief and headed for the door. Marian and Severus turned to follow him when Marian suddenly stopped in the doorway and said to Katie, "Wait just a moment—I have something that belongs to you."

And with those words, she gathered her hair to one side and beckoned to Severus, who approached and leisurely unfastened the necklace, dragging his fingers across the skin of her neck, and obviously enjoying himself. Unbidden, Marian's eyelids lowered in ecstasy. Katie Bell's eyes widened even more, and looked as though they were threatening to pop out. She had never seen her professor seem so human. She had always thought of him and all of her other teachers as asexual beings. But here he was, obviously smitten with the pretty witch in front of her, who seemed to more than tolerate his touch.

Severus removed the piece of jewelry and handed it to Marian, who approached Katie and held the necklace out to her. "I believe this belongs to you," she said sardonically.

"Keep it. Throw it away! I still remember the pain it caused me. I thought I would die," the girl exclaimed with tears in her lovely brown eyes.

"You almost did," Marian replied gravely, continuing, "But you didn't. You survived, thanks to Professor Snape's cleverness and your father's love. If your father hadn't loved you more than anything on this earth, and risked his life to save yours, you would have slowly faded away….This is a very valuable and well-known necklace. It was created by a Dark Wizard to punish the beautiful witch that rejected him, and it has been an object of horror for centuries. But its evil has been overcome through you, and you have earned the right to it. Keep it as a reminder that love always triumphs over death and wickedness. Every time you wear it, you proclaim that message to the world. And it's one that could bear repeating in these dark times."

"Well, when you put it _that_ way," Katie answered in a small voice, and held out her hand to take it.

She flinched slightly when Marian gently placed it in her palm, and closed Katie's nail-bitten fingers over it. With a final smile at Katie and her father, who was cradling his child with his arm, Marian returned to Severus' side. As an afterthought, she turned and said, "When you wear that necklace, it will also tell people not to trifle with you."

And then they walked back to her office, where the first rays of morning light shone through the dusty panes and highlighted the table covered with their empty plastic cups and all of the scattered papers. Severus followed her in and quietly closed the door behind him. Marian began tidying up and suddenly looked up at Severus and smiled radiantly, "Well—you did it. How does it feel to have solved in barely twelve hours a curse that has baffled wizards for centuries?"

Severus smiled in answer, and Marian thought his smile was the loveliest thing she had ever seen. It seldom made an appearance, but it illuminated his face in a way that even passion and enthusiasm couldn't. It was like a burst of lightening that only lasted for a moment, but that highlighted his hidden goodness and whatever was left of his innocence.

"Don't you mean '_we_ did it'," he corrected, adding, "And I don't know about you, but I feel remarkably satisfied with myself."

"That's funny," Marian smirked, "I feel remarkably satisfied with you as well."

He raised an eyebrow at her suggestively, and she colored and looked away, busying herself with making second copies of the Lothair books for Severus to take with him.

Finally, she spoke again, "You know what's really awful though."

"What's that?" he asked inquisitively.

"What if someone else had touched the necklace? Someone that didn't have living parents? Or loving parents? Someone with no one alive that loved her that much," Marian confided worriedly.

"Are you speaking about yourself?" he inquired patiently.

Marian nodded and played with her bracelet, turning it slowly around her wrist. Severus gave a rather strained chuckle and said decisively, "Marian, you should have no fears on that score….But I suppose I should return to Hogwarts and inform Dumbledore that the Bell girl has recovered. He'll want to know before the reporters get wind of it."

"Severus, I'll owl him. I want you to get some sleep. If you go back to Hogwarts, Dumbledore will keep you busy all day long. I have a guest bedroom. Why not come and rest at my house for a while? No one will disturb you there," Marian offered coaxingly.

For a moment he seemed to waver, but finally shook his head and replied, "No, I must really be getting back. All of my things are at the school and I would very much like a bath. Also, Dumbledore will want to hear all the details. The sooner I satisfy him, the sooner I can get some sleep. I find it's much easier to let him have his way these days."

"I suppose you're right," she murmured, walking out with him and quickly warding her office. As they strolled through the corridor toward the lift, easily avoiding the skeleton crew that operated at night, Marian cast a precautionary Muffliato and looked over at Severus, who carried his shrunken collection of Lothair's texts in his robe pocket—as well as the knut that had operated as a portkey. _That_ he kept as a souvenir, although he would die before admitting it to Marian.

Giving him an impish smile, she said, "You know, this war won't last forever."

"It's lasted for my entire adulthood," Severus grumbled.

"And soon it will be at an end. Harry Potter is almost a man, and he and the Dark Lord will settle things once and for all. And you know which way I hope it goes….If it is ever over, and if you ever grow tired of Hogwarts, you would make one hell of a consultant….Severus, I'll be honest with you: you're a better curse-breaker than I am. You could do anything you wanted. Do you think you'll ever leave teaching? I mean, I'm sure it's very rewarding for those with the gift and-"

"I hate teaching," he was a bit surprised at himself. He had never admitted it aloud, although to be honest, few people were in doubt of the fact. "I attempt to teach the dullest, most uninspired minds in all of Great Britain. I'm only thankful that I'm no longer in the lab, where no day passed without an explosion due to the students' inattention and incompetence."

She laughed and said, "I really can't imagine how you've managed it for all these years. I would have absolutely no patience with the students. The vast percentage—at least when I was in school—was either spoiled, lazy, insolent or slow—and usually some unattractive combination of the four."

"You're absolutely on target. The little savages grow worse every year," Severus replied, pleased to have finally found someone sympathetic to his plight, a person that didn't look at him disapprovingly and suggest that his attitude could use some work—although the last person to suggest that was still smarting from his blistering reply.

They chatted all the way outside the building, and even though the sun had risen completely, causing their tired eyes to squint from the dazzling light, Marian and Severus lingered, neither wanting to leave the other's company.

Finally, Severus took a step back and prepared to Apparate, when Marian suddenly remembered something and said, "By the way, Katie Bell is a pureblood."

He regarded her with a knowing expression and stated, "_Is_ she."

"That's right," Marian returned, "so you won't get into trouble with _him_ for helping her, thank Merlin."

His eyes softened and he nodded at her and Disapparated. He felt angry at himself for assuming even for a moment that she might be implying that blood status mattered to him—that he would be especially pleased to have helped a pureblood. Her actual meaning filled him with tenderness and warmth. He reminded himself again of the dangers of jumping to conclusions where she was concerned. She always exceeded his expectations.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21: The Headmaster

The next two days, Marian continued on at St. Mungo's as usual, and had been spurred to further efforts in her private Portkey experimentation after her French adventure with Severus, where one of her Portkeys had played a vital role. She had made her way into the papers over the cursed necklace incident, but any pleasure she felt at being recognized was poisoned by the reporter's cruel assessment of Dumbledore.

The article had made the front page of the Monday _Daily Prophet_, and although it painted her and Professor Snape in an attractive light—although far too little was said about his involvement in the cure—its obvious purpose was to skewer Dumbledore. Marian had ground her teeth in fury as she read the brutal, misleading story. Its title, _'Bumbledore: Hogwarts Student Receives Near-Fatal Curse'_ hurt her heart. She felt that the complicated old man shouldn't be subjected to this sort of undeserved insult in the last few days of his life. Marian never quite managed to forget his blackened, cursed hand. It worried at her, and sometimes even invaded her dreams.

Although she generally let things slide, Marian couldn't resist taking a stand this time, and, bristling with anger, dashed off a letter to the newspaper, giving them the actual sequence of events. She had been a key player, and no one had even bothered to interview her. She admitted that she was rather difficult to get hold of, considering the fact that she didn't actually live in England, but no one from the _Prophet_ had even _tried_ to get her side of the story. She supposed that these days, it truly was the mouthpiece of the Ministry, which was, in turn, the mouthpiece of the Dark Lord.

Marian looked back with longing on the time she had spent with Severus. Even though they were together so rarely, just a few times a year, those rare treasured moments with him served as the lamp that lit up all the intervening days. She couldn't bear it if anything ever happened to him. He was what she looked forward to most.

At St. Mungo's, Marian was congratulated by one of the administrators in the hallway, but otherwise continued on with minor matters as though nothing unusual had happened. Saving lives was business at the hospital, and everyone faced their own challenges, at their appropriate skill level. Just because Marian and Severus had done something remarkable in breaking a five hundred-year-old curse, they had still just saved one life. No one there was terribly impressed, which actually relieved Marian. If no one at the hospital cared, then perhaps the case wouldn't rekindle the Dark Lord's interest in her.

When she arrived back at her Glastonbury house after a couple of hours at the hospital, Marian was greeted once again by the sight of Albus Dumbledore reclining in her sitting room. He was adorned with bright azure robes that reminded her of the ones he had been wearing the first time they'd met, almost two years ago to the day. She forgot to feel guilty about the listening device in her concern at seeing him looking so gray and bent. He seemed to have aged several decades since the last time they had met.

He favored her with an unruffled smile and lifted Ms. Bear out of his lap and onto the floor, where she danced about Marian with excitement. She wondered how he had known she would be home early. Apparently, his sources of information were just as expedient as her own. She started to offer him a drink, but then realized that he had already helped himself. She found that she didn't mind.

"I'm very proud of you for saving Ms. Bell's life. Apparently, you and Severus work very well together," he said genially.

"Thank you, Professor. About that horrible article…" she began, but Dumbledore cut her off with a wave of his hand and a benign smile.

"I'm used to it, my dear. I suppose it just shows that things are returning to normal. I've been enjoying a reprieve for the past year from Rita Skeeter and her ilk ever since it turned out that I was right all along about Voldemort's return, and not simply a crazy old man plotting a coup against the Ministry….But you mustn't mind those stories. The truth comes out in the end," Dumbledore said comfortingly.

Marian didn't appear convinced, but she nodded anyway. After a moment, she could no longer resist the lure of the unsolved curse and said, "Professor—might I see your hand? I know Severus has examined you, but maybe if you told us more, we could start researching and find some way to beat this….Have you been experiencing any tingling or-"

He cut her off with a kind, but firm, shake of the head. "Marian, stop. Severus warned that you would try to assist me after your recent success, but I am afraid that I'm beyond all earthly help."

Marian visibly drooped, heartsick at the specter of death that hovered over the old man in her living room, and even though she knew she should only be worried about Dumbledore, couldn't help but spare a fear for Severus as well. And then she felt even guiltier. After all, she was _spying_ on Dumbledore, and he had only ever been kind to her.

She was horrified at herself when tears sprang up in her eyes, and she rubbed them out immediately, but his keen old eyes had already spotted them.

"Don't weep on my account. I've lived a very long, satisfying, exciting life. I am not sorry to die….It's only the _manner_ of my death that bothers me. I regret it," he murmured, touched by her sympathy.

"But _sir_," she blurted uncharacteristically, "I'm so sorry! You've been so good to me and I've only ever wanted to help you, but instead I've offended against you….And I can't even tell you what I've done, because it would spoil the plans I've laid that might eventually save someone's life."

"You love him, don't you?" Dumbledore asked gently, in an apparent non sequitur.

Startled, Marian just stared at him, not confirming or denying, and seemingly poised for flight. "What do you mean?" she asked disingenuously.

"_Severus._ You love Severus," he answered patiently.

Suddenly, Marian decided to come clean. She didn't have the heart to lie to a dying man. "_Yes. He's everything to me_," she breathed.

"And whatever you've done that you can't confess to me—you've done it for him, to save his life?" he questioned.

Marian nodded, the movement shaking free a tear that had been clinging to her lashes and sending it splashing down onto Ms. Bear, who looked up at her in alarm.

Professor Dumbledore laughed softly and said, "A philosopher once said that 'everything done out of love takes place beyond good and evil.'"

Marian wrinkled her nose and couldn't quite keep her voice free of derision when she asked, "You don't_ really_ believe that, do you?"

He tilted his head thoughtfully for a moment and finally answered, "I _did_ believe it once…but now that I'm older, another philosophy seems truer: _'I tell you that her sins, which were many, are forgiven-'_"

"_'-For she has loved much'_," Marian finished the quote and took a shuddering breath.

"That's right," he replied, "Even things done out of love can be morally wrong, but that very love pleads for compassion. Whatever you've done, I forgive you….You have a tender heart. I never expected you to weep for me. I may have been good to _you_, but you cannot be ignorant of the way I've treated Severus over the years."

"I'll admit I did resent you for it for a very long time, but I understand that a man in your position has to take advantage of any edge—and Severus is a very sharp tool," Marian answered logically, although she couldn't keep a trace of irony from her tone.

Dumbledore laughed self-deprecatingly and responded, "Your mind may agree with my methods, but your heart hates them—as well it should. I will be honest with you—I made no provision for Severus in the eventuality that he survived the war, because, well, I never expected that he would...Until lately, that fact hardly troubled me."

Marian tried to remain impassive and understanding, but a flash of pain darkened her face for a moment. Dumbledore continued, in an even more conciliatory tone, "I'm sorry, my dear. It's only now that I'm face-to-face with my own death that I'm able to take a step back from my schemes….I suppose I never thought Severus had much to live for. He has always been an aloof, saturnine man. But now that I've seen the effect that you have on one another, I feel it would be very cruel of me to deprive you of him. I do not wish to destroy the happiness of two people-if it can be helped….That's why I've come to see you today."

She brightened and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, which the puppy then licked, looking up at her gravely. Marian kissed the little animal on the head and hugged her to her body.

Dumbledore watched them with a half-smile and then continued, "I know that you were disappointed that I wouldn't allow you to help me with my curse; however, you can aid me in another way."

She nodded, and he produced a small package from his voluminous robes and handed to it to her. It was small and square, wrapped in shiny silver paper. When Marian made a move to open it, he reached out to deter her.

"Don't open it now. Put it away in a safe place, and see that no harm comes to it. If Severus is ever on trial, this may aid his defense….When I first inducted you into the Order, I could see at once that you were an independent sort of person, and that you would be an incredibly useful asset once I figured out what to do with you. I began to get a glimmer of an idea the night of the first meeting, when I saw the way you interacted with Severus," he related.

"But I didn't even speak to him that night!" Marian interjected.

"You didn't have to. You caught his eye from the very beginning. I watched him watching you, and when you happened to meet his gaze, you didn't back down and you didn't challenge him, but you achieved the nearly impossible feat of conveying your respect while earning his. And I thought then that you might befriend him and help him cope with the terrible burden that he has been forced to carry for the last two years. You showed early on that you were willing to go the extra mile for him, which is what he needs, but no one-usually not even me, to my shame—is prepared to do.

"And the more I observed you, the more I realized that you had already chosen a role for yourself. I suppose that I could have tried to micromanage you, but you showed an uncanny knack for finding the cracks in the Order's dam and filling them, as it were. When I contracted this curse a year ago, I knew that it would kill me soon. I've lived longer than I expected, but could die any day now. It took very little time for me to grasp that Severus would no longer be useful to the Order if no one trusted him. Remus might still believe, but he lacks cunning and the ability to lead.

"On the other hand, you have gained many friends in the Order of the Phoenix, and you're crafty enough to make use of Severus' information. You would be sly enough to leave his name out of things, and pretend that you had received your news from other sources. You would protect him….Also, I recognized that your loyalty centered on Severus and not me, that you would do nothing to his detriment and obey no one but him," he said drily.

"Not even him, usually," Marian said with a smirk, but it quickly faltered and she added, "But you speak as though he and I are lovers, when we're nothing of the sort!"

Dumbledore gave her what she considered a rather patronizing smile and said, "People can be in love and yet not be lovers….That's something I know quite a bit about."

"Professor," Marian said, avoiding his glance and stroking her puppy's soft ears, "He and I have no…_understanding_. I know that he cares for me and that we have an…attraction, but just because I love him doesn't mean that he reciprocates."

But Dumbledore seemed merely amused by her further attempt at clarification and said, "My dear girl, if you still doubt your power over Severus, you must be either deaf and blind or the most stubborn creature ever to walk the earth."

Marian was pleased, but she only huffed and said, "If you're going to tell me some rot about how he's a changed man…"

At this, he laughed out loud and said, "Child, no power in this world could make Severus any less himself. When I spoke earlier of the effect you have on one another, I meant that now you both have someone to cherish, someone to sacrifice for, and a hope to hold on to—which is a very precious thing indeed."

"Did you suspect that I would come to love him?" she asked, emboldened by his supportive attitude.

To her surprise, Dumbledore hesitated for a moment and said, "No. I had hoped for a friendship only. I could tell that you were drawn to one another, but didn't consider the possibility that an attractive, well-adjusted woman like you would be able to overlook his…defects. A romance is very much against my wishes, but I'm not so foolish as to interfere. It's futile in matters like these—you both already love each other. And Severus is not the sort of man that falls easily, or recovers easily. He will always adore you, so I don't want you to let him down; but on the other hand, he must maintain his priorities and cannot afford to become distracted—more than he already is anyway."

"Don't worry, Professor. He let me understand in no uncertain terms that nothing could happen between us," Marian said wistfully.

Dumbledore reached over and patted her hand, saying, "Don't worry, my dear. You know in your heart that he didn't mean forever. If you're willing to wait until the war is over, you can have him."

Marian wanted to reply, "_Or what's left of him_," but she refrained. She saw no point in making the old man feel worse when she knew that her grumbling would change nothing. Severus would still be a spy, Dumbledore would still be his handler, and she would still be dedicated to preserving the man that occupied the most precarious position of all. She sighed. Instead she asked, "Professor, does Severus know that you came to see me…or about the package?"

A cloud passed over his face and he responded tiredly, "No. I didn't tell him. I don't deserve his gratitude."

Dumbledore rose gracefully to his feet, but seemed frailer than usual. His flowing, glimmering robes seemed far too heavy and capacious for him. He approached her fireplace with a measured pace and asked, "May I use your Floo?" in a cheery voice, as though they had not just been discussing his imminent death.

Marian nodded, but then she suddenly interjected, "That second quote—about the forgiveness of sins—_Jesus_ said that."

"Of course," he answered serenely.

"But few wizards know anything about Muggle religion. I'm a quarter-blood and was raised in the church…but you're a pureblood, aren't you, sir?" she asked hesitantly.

"You're quite right, my dear. But it wasn't until recently that wizards began to regard Christianity as a _Muggle_ religion. My generation took it very seriously, but modern wizards only see the miracles and they laugh at those, because they have a talent that allows them to do many of the same things," he said matter-of-factly.

"But you—do _you_ believe? If you don't mind me asking, that is," Marian corrected.

He measured some Floo powder into his hand and poured it back and forth meditatively, before he answered, "I never did before; I was far too wrapped up in my own plans…but now that I'm approaching my end, I finally have some perspective—and not just on the matter of Severus.

"I _do_ believe, and I'll tell you why. Problems of the soul are of just as much import to wizards as Muggles….Miracles are all very well, but what won my heart was Christ's willing sacrifice. The surrender of an innocent life to reclaim the lost, degraded souls of men—and I was not quite so arrogant that I didn't recognize myself in that category. I realized how desperately I needed redemption.

"Integrity is difficult for us—people like Severus and me-and you as well, I believe. We're idealists, and long for a better world, but we're all very comfortable in the gray area. We're clever, and find it far too expedient to be devious and manipulative when the occasion suits us. And yet, we long for truth, honor, justification…deliverance from our own corruption. I finally realized that I could not achieve any of those things on my own. I thank the Lord for revealing a solution in time….Child, Severus wrestles with his own guilt, which will grow greater as the war continues. I fear for him should he fail to find atonement."

And with those final words, Albus Dumbledore disappeared into the chimney with a kindly twinkle in his wise old eyes. It was the last time Marian ever saw him.

The next week, she went over to Tonks' flat after work. The two of them socialized and drank wine, idly watching Ms. Bear play with a toy that Fred Weasley had given her. It was a squishy purple mouse that squeaked and ran away, but at a speed that allowed the puppy to catch it. The dog loved the odd little contraption, and Marian and Tonks never grew tired of watching her antics. But in the middle of Tonks' delightful story involving Mad-Eye Moody transfiguring the quill of the reporter, Rita Skeeter, into a very ugly, very scary firecrab, Marian suddenly noticed that the cold tones coming from her earpiece were those of the boy Voldemort, unmistakable to her after listening to the other Pensieve memories. The past few days, she had mostly tuned out the sounds coming from her bugs, partly because she had been very busy and partly out of guilt over spying on Dumbledore. But she suddenly realized that something was happening, and that she had almost missed it. Quickly excusing herself, she raced to the bathroom and gripped the sides of the sink, concentrating on the sounds with everything in her.

After a moment, she recognized this memory as the same one she had heard before and felt vaguely disappointed. A teenage Voldemort was asking one of his professors about Horcruxes and the professor was telling him to get back to his dormitory and not to ask such questions—only…wait, this time the professor said nothing of the sort. He was giving out information. And the boy was very interested; although Marian had the uncomfortable sense that the child already knew most of what the man was telling him. But then the boy asked a very curious question indeed. He asked what would happen if one made multiple Horcruxes—like _'seven, the most powerfully magical number'_.

And then Marian sat heavily on the ground, feeling for all the world as though she had been punched in the gut. _Seven_ Horcruxes. Such a thing had never been heard of—was too evil even to be contemplated. If Voldemort had achieved this, and she felt in her heart that he had, then he was as good as immortal. She laughed bitterly for a moment and reflected that Dumbledore had good reason to be thinking about his own soul these days. Souls and soul-splitting must have been very much on his mind….And she wondered for the first time where he had managed to come into contact with a cursed object—if, in fact, it might have been a Horcrux.

She didn't have long to wait for answers, because Harry and Dumbledore were talking again. She listened keenly to Dumbledore's account of the Horcruxes that had been destroyed—the diary and the ring. But now there were still a Slytherin locket, Hufflepuff's cup, something of Ravenclaw's, the snake Nagini, and Voldemort himself—although Marian wondered from Dumbledore's manner if he might be leaving something out.

Marian listened right up until the point where Dumbledore and Harry decided to go together at once to try to find the locket Horcrux, but then she was interrupted by a tentative knock on the bathroom door and Tonks' hesitant call, "Are you alright?"

Marian opened at once and, except for a slight pallor, looked just as she had a few moments before when they had been merrily talking and laughing. She answered, "I'm fine. I just…don't feel so hot. Do you mind if I call it a night?"

Tonks picked up the wine bottle and eyed it critically. "Do you think it was this? It's the first time I've bought this particular brand, and I know everyone thinks that Italian wine is supposed to be so spectacular, but-"

Amused, Marian interrupted and said, "No, Tonks. The wine was excellent. The truth is that something started worrying me all of a sudden and that I won't be able to enjoy myself until I go home and look into it."

She nodded. "A case bothering you, eh?" Tonks asked knowingly.

Getting wrapped up in work was something that Tonks understood very well. She believed in what she was doing and excelled at it, and her career also did double-duty by helping to take her mind off Remus Lupin.

"Sort of," Marian replied evasively, and added, "Let's try this again tomorrow—or the next day. Whenever is better for you. We can go out if you like, or to my place. It doesn't matter."

Tonks nodded and poured herself another glass before walking her friend to the door. "Tomorrow, then. Same time," Tonks grinned, and then Marian Disapparated, Ms. Bear in tow. Marian smiled to herself. Tonks really was a good sort. The moment she arrived home, she lit the candles and sat on the couch in the semi-darkness, listening with all her being. She began to get very frightened when she heard Harry start shouting spells, and sounding increasingly panicked. She wondered what had happened to Dumbledore after he had drunk whatever it was Harry had given him. Something in that cave had gone very badly wrong.

Dumbledore's voice suddenly tore through her earpiece. He shouted a spell full of power—a fire spell. And suddenly Marian knew exactly what they were fighting. _Inferi_. She shivered. Convulsively clasping the puppy in her arms, Marian listened to everything that happened, from their escaping the cave to their arrival at Hogwarts, and then she heard a very ill-sounding Dumbledore tell Harry to get Severus. And that was when things went from bad to worse. All at once Dumbledore cast a spell that would hold Harry in place, hidden under his Invisibility Cloak. He, like Marian, would be a reluctant witness to whatever was about to happen next.

She finally understood the reason for the hex when she detected another voice, a young, desperate voice. Dumbledore greeted the newcomer as Draco Malfoy, and proceeded to carry on a conversation with him. Marian gathered that Dumbledore was being held at wandpoint by Draco, and too ill to defend himself with anything but his silver tongue. But after she listened to the two of them for a moment, she realized that the old wizard had nothing to fear from the boy. Draco didn't have it in him to murder the kindly elderly man that had always been his headmaster. But then Marian heard something that caused the blood to chill in her veins. It was the malicious cackling of Bellatrix LeStrange.

And then Marian leapt into action, firing off a Patronus to Moody, warning that there were Death Eaters in the school. As an afterthought, she sent additional ones to Bill Weasley, Sirius, and Tonks. Hopefully, the Order would be able to arrive before anything happened to the children, although she was nearly petrified with terror for Harry and Dumbledore. A corner of her mind noticed that something was off with her Patronus. It was much larger than before, its shape seemingly altered. It even moved differently. Ordinarily, she would have been shocked and intrigued by this development, pondering what it meant, but today there were other things of far more importance afoot.

Suddenly, there was an ominous silence in her earpiece. She heard the Death Eaters begin complaining to someone about Draco's lack of initiative, and then there was Dumbledore's voice again, this time pleading, "Severus…_please_."

She held her breath. Severus Snape was about to blow his cover. But then, unexpectedly, the voice that she would recognize anywhere, that she adored above all others, invoked the most deadly of the Unforgivables in powerful tones full of bitterness and loathing.

And then she heard nothing but pandemonium. Marian started to shake. Severus Snape had just killed Albus Dumbledore.

Her feet seemed made of lead, and she had trouble breathing. "_It's only the manner of my death. I regret it_," Marian mimicked.

"Well, _no wonder_….But _how_ could he ask this of him? How could he be so cruel?" she asked herself, and viciously ripped the listening device out of her left ear. It had been the one that she had used to spy on Dumbledore, but now it only emitted a faint buzzing that filled her with horror.

Stricken, she murmured, "_My Severus…"_ and decided that she had to go to Hogwarts. She knew that if any of the Death Eaters saw her, word would quickly reach Voldemort. Then there would be no chance that he wouldn't realize she was still a member of the Order. But she didn't care. She needed to make sure that Severus was alright. After all,_ she_ had been the one to sic the Order on him. So she Disillusioned herself and Apparated to the entrance of Hogwarts.

She arrived, landing hard on her feet, and looked around, spotting a light near the edge of the forest. She could tell even from where she was standing that the flickering light came from something burning, so she began running towards it. Panting with exertion, she recognized with horror that it was Hagrid's hut. She feared that she was too late. The Death Eaters must have set the house on fire while making their escape. They would have wanted to make their entrance as stealthily as possible, and starting a gigantic bonfire was hardly subtle.

Suddenly, she caught sight of spells flying, and saw a few figures running into the forest. But the one that seemed to be in command of the others paused for a quick duel. To her surprise, Marian realized that her earpiece enabled her to listen to the words of the duelists, which were drowned out by the roar of the flames from where she was standing. The fighters were Harry and Snape. Marian felt sick.

Snape was obviously only toying with Harry, deflecting spells and taunting him, but then he seemed to see something behind Harry that made him change his behavior, and he quickly Stupefied the boy and turned to flee again. Marian could see several figures closing in on him, and recognized the foremost member of the group as Sirius, whose long hair streamed in the wind. He was just a little fleeter than the rest, and shot a few spells at Snape's back. When they missed their target, he roared out, in a voice that Marian had no difficulty hearing, "Run, you coward! Now she'll see what you are! That's right! She felt sorry for you before, but now you'll get _nothing_! But don't worry-_I'll_ be there to comfort her!"

At these words, Severus Snape paused in flight and spun around, but saw at once that he could not afford to tarry a moment longer if he didn't wish to be captured, so he took a final stride into the forest and Disapparated. Marian stared at the place he had been standing until the oppressive heat made her eyes dry out and sting. At that moment, she felt numb. She couldn't find it in herself to hate Sirius or Dumbledore, or even to blame Severus for keeping this horrible secret from her.

Marian paced wildly. She wanted to know what had happened, but knew that she couldn't reveal her presence on the Hogwarts grounds. She debated Apparating to Grimmauld Place, but realized that the Order would probably convene there and would resent her presence, considering the fact that she had rejected them. Next, she thought of going back to Tonks' flat, but then she considered the fact that Tonks was an Auror, and that her duties might easily keep her away all night. Finally, she opted for the Burrow. She went home to retrieve Ms. Bear, and the two of them Apparated to the Weasley home. Marian toyed with the idea of breaking and entering, but didn't think it wise considering that her friends might not be in the most relaxed and nonconfrontational mindset tonight after what had just happened.

The evening was warm, with a dry, delicate breeze, so Marian settled herself against the doorjamb with a Cushioning Charm, and wrapped her silky black cloak around herself. After a few minutes of exploring, the small puppy finally grew bored and crawled into her lap. Marian watched the fluffy creature finally settle down, and without warning, she began to weep. Her silent tears soon escalated to terrible, gasping sobs, which raked through her chest like a creature trying to claw its way out.

_How_ could she have missed this? After all of her listening, how had she failed to discover this awful secret? Her spy had been carrying this burden all alone, and she couldn't imagine the devastation he must be feeling. Besides having to face the spiritual consequences of his act, Severus would be forever despised, forever cut off from his countrymen. She knew that his deed this night would ensure that the epithet 'murderer' was always tied to his name. How could he stand it? How would he manage to go to the Dark Lord and pretend to be _happy _about what had happened? She feared that this could be the last straw, the thing that finally broke the spirit of the indomitable spy.

Hours passed in which she drowned in distress and self-recrimination. Irrationally, Marian told herself that this shouldn't have happened, that she should have found out, should have tried to stop it. Finally, worn out by worry and sorrow, she decided to close her eyes for a minute or two, wanting to forget.

She thought she had only slept for a moment, but when she woke, found herself bathed in morning light and looking up into the tired, vaguely amused face of Arthur Weasley. She scrambled gracelessly to her feet, brushing pieces of newly mown grass off her lap that must have been tracked into it by Ms. Bear, and greeted Arthur with a sheepish expression on her tear-stained face.

"I wanted to find out what happened," she explained, her voice hoarse from disuse and the night air.

He smiled at her. "Come inside and we'll have a cup of coffee. I have a little time before I have to return to the school….You'd better get Ms. Bear. I'm sure I can find something for her to eat that tastes better than garden gnome," he chuckled, although even his mirth seemed much more subdued than usual.

Marian whistled and her dog pranced up the front steps, delighted that she had finally encountered adversaries her own size. "Sit down, Arthur. I'll make the coffee. Would you like something to eat? Some eggs?" Marian asked. She was more than comfortable in the Weasley kitchen after her many visits to the Burrow.

"Thank you, yes….I haven't slept all night. None of us have, really. Such a terrible thing…" Arthur mumbled.

He seemed to revive a bit after a couple of swigs of the hot, aromatic brew and said, "I suppose I shouldn't keep you in suspense any longer. You weren't able to be there last night, after all."

"No, you're wrong….Last night, I was there," she said quietly, the soothing sizzling of the bacon in the skillet providing a deceptively normal backdrop to their bizarre and terrible conversation.

He raised an eyebrow at her and she clarified, "I found out from Dumbledore that Death Eaters were in the school. I sent out four Patroni—to Moody, Tonks, Sirius and Bill. Then I Disillusioned myself and Apparated to the outskirts of Hogwarts, but I could see that Hagrid's hut was already burning. I arrived just in time to watch Harry dueling Severus, and then Sirius and a few other Order members showed up and Severus disarmed Harry, ran into the forest and Disapparated….That's something I don't understand….I sent out the warning, and must have Disapparated before the others, but yet the Order members were chasing the Death Eaters out of the castle, which means that they were already inside. How did it happen that I caught only the last few moments of the action?"

Arthur looked a little disturbed by what she had just said, and stared meditatively into his coffee for a few silent moments. Finally, he looked up at her and responded, "They _did_ receive your Patronus, but were already inside Hogwarts when it came. I assume it was yours—it spoke with your voice. But we had been summoned by another Patronus nearly ten minutes before. We don't know who it belonged to. I had never seen it before. It definitely belonged to a man, but the voice was disguised."

"Could it have been Severus'?" Marian asked.

At the mention of his name, Arthur scowled and said, "Snape….No, it wasn't that traitor's. His Patronus is a doe."

At the witch's stricken look, Arthur groaned and said, "Oh, Marian, I'm sorry. You don't know yet. I forget that you always had a soft spot where he was concerned. But Severus Snape finally hopped off the fence tonight. He killed Albus Dumbledore and rejoined the Death Eaters. He fled with them—presumably to Malfoy Manor, where he went to claim his _reward_….Marian, you don't seem surprised by what I'm saying."

"I'm not. I knew about Professor Dumbledore's death. But what else happened? Is anyone else dead?" she said quickly, unable to bear any more talk of Severus.

"I don't mean to pry, but how is it that you know all this if I'm the first person you've spoken with?" he asked in consternation.

"Arthur, I can't tell you. But I can promise that my loyalties are and always have been with Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix. If I keep certain things to myself, it's only because it would be dangerous for us all if the information leaked. There is no one that I trust with my secrets….After all, the Dark Lord reads minds," Marian explained.

"But not yours," he commented drily, and Marian wasn't quite sure if it was a question or if he was being ironic, but she ventured a cautious shake of the head.

"No, not mine," she murmured definitely.

He sighed and said, "I suppose that I can't argue with that logic. I've never seen anyone operate as seamlessly outside the law, but for some reason, I trust you….Anyway, no one else died last night, but there were quite a few injuries. The worst off is Bill. That werewolf, Grayback, attacked him and we're still waiting to hear whether…" he swallowed thickly, unable to continue.

"Merlin, I'm sorry," she breathed, "But how serious are the injuries? Are they life-threatening?"

"His face will be rather badly scarred, and he was always so handsome…but he should recover if there are no…complications. Even though last night wasn't a full moon, we're still worried about whether he may have acquired Grayback's condition," Arthur answered.

But Marian's face cleared up at once and she placed a plate full of bacon and scrambled eggs in front of her friend, before looking him in the eye and saying, "Don't worry. There is no danger of that. Werewolves can only transmit their malady when they're actually transformed."

He looked up at her, eyes shining with hope, "Are you certain?"

"Absolutely," she nodded, "I have known many people in the wilder parts of Europe that were attacked by werewolves in the forest, yet never suffered any ill-effects. In many countries, werewolves live as outlaws on the fringes of society. They're always attacking and robbing travelers. There would be more werewolves than wizards if lycanthropy could be picked up that way. Thank Merlin we're only in actual danger one night a month."

He began shoveling his food into his mouth in a way that reminded her fondly of his son, Ron, and then he wiped his lips and threw down his napkin, exclaiming, "I have to go tell Molly. At least there's some good news….Will you be going to Dumbledore's funeral? It's tonight at sunset."

She nodded emphatically. "Yes. I'll be Polyjuiced, but I'll be there."

The funeral was simple and heartbreakingly lovely. Dumbledore had touched so many lives. He had done great good, although to make much of that good possible he had driven Severus Snape down the road to hell with an iron cudgel. Marian, in her guise as a red-headed Weasley distant relative, stood among her friends with dry eyes. In a way, she loved Dumbledore. It was hard not to venerate the old wizard, who had been so merry, yet so subtle. Perhaps someday she would forgive him for using Severus as the sword that he eventually threw himself upon. _But not yet._ Not when every other word she heard was an imprecation against the man she loved. She thought about Severus all the time, and was certain that he was holed up in Malfoy Manor, but she had no way of getting in touch with him. She could hardly send him mail there. And if she did, she wouldn't dare say what she really felt in a letter that would almost surely be "previewed" by the Dark Lord's minions.

After the funeral, she went home; not wanting to intrude on the Order's gathering. She was also eager to fine-tune a special Portkey she had created for Severus. She had worked on the theory for a couple of years, and it was almost finished. Now she was just adding all of the protective spells she could think of to it. She also intended to begin researching with a vengeance for a way to remove the Dark Mark. Marian intended to keep very busy until she could find out more about Severus' situation.

The rest of the summer passed mostly without incident. She and Tonks spent more time together than usual. She thought that her friend pitied what she surely considered to be Marian's ill-conceived romantic failure. The first time they went to dinner together, and almost as soon as they sat down, Tonks had said, "I'm really sorry, you know."

"About what?" Marian had asked, looking at her curiously.

"That you were wrong about Snape. I think we both gave him credit for being a better man than he is….He fooled Dumbledore; he fooled everybody—which is surprising. He seems so sinister, and yet I always thought that there was something honorable about him….I don't look down on you for caring about him, I guess is what I'm trying to say," Tonks finished.

Marian nearly choked on her own tongue. She had always been the sort to keep things to herself, but now that she had obtained secret information that she couldn't discuss with anyone, the more she chafed to do just that. She pitied Severus' life as a spy. How dreadful to be able to take counsel with no one, to have so much weighing on the soul and not be permitted to unburden it. She knew that she couldn't blow Snape's cover by justifying him to her friend, but she couldn't bring herself to repudiate him either.

She had just nodded cautiously and said, "Thanks for that, Tonks," and that had been that. At least for a couple of weeks.

Not long afterwards, they met again, and Marian had to do a double-take. Tonks' pink hair was vibrant and glossy, and her whole face shone with what looked to be…happiness.

"You look great. What's happened?" Marian asked bemusedly.

Tonks practically danced over to their usual table and cast a Silencing Charm. The two of them sat and Tonks started playing with the salt and pepper shakers, pushing them back and forth and around each other, before she sat up, looked her friend in the eye and said, "I don't know how to tell you this without sounding completely insensitive to what you're going through, but I still have to tell you….It's Remus! Marian, he loves me!"

Marian laughed with joy and said, "Tell me everything! How did it happen?"

Tonks grinned and said, "Even when we were kids at school, I idolized him—although he was a seventh year when I was only in my first year, so I was just Sirius' little cousin to him. But then, years later, when I met him again at an Order meeting, I knew immediately that there was something there. And I could tell he felt it, too. We would flirt, but he always kept me at arms' length. You know about how I confronted him last year, and how he said that there could be nothing between us—that he was too old, too poor, blah blah.

"Well, even if that was his _official_ stance, his eyes told me something different. I would always catch him watching me, and there was nothing platonic about his expression. So I kept trying. I went out of my way to touch him; I tried to make him jealous by flirting with other men. I dolled myself up. I pulled out the whole playbook. And nothing worked-sometimes I sensed that I was getting through to him, but he still never made a move.

"I had almost given up. I've been pretty depressed for a while now, as I'm sure you've noticed….But then, he and I happened to be visiting Bill Weasley at the same time. It was the morning of Dumbledore's funeral. Most of the Weasleys were there, and Harry and Hermione and Bill's fiancée, Fleur. Someone said something about how the engagement would probably be called off now that Bill is disfigured—although that's a bit of an exaggeration. Even with a big scar on his cheek, he's still pretty hot. Maybe even hotter. But I digress.

"Anyway, Fleur turned on whoever it was and said that even if Bill turned into a werewolf that she would stick by him, and that they would make it work. And then, I don't know what got into me, but I turned to Remus in front of everyone and said, _'See, she doesn't care._'"

"You didn't!" breathed Marian in admiration.

"I know!" exclaimed Tonks, "I didn't mean to. It just sort of slipped out. But he didn't answer me—didn't say anything at all. I thought I'd blown it. But then, last night, he shows up at my flat with _this_!"

And with flushed cheeks and a triumphant flourish of her left hand, she produced an antique diamond ring that sprayed sparkles all over the room in the light of their table lamp. Marian gasped in excitement, exclaiming, "It's extraordinary!"

She wanted to ask how on earth Remus had been able to pay for such a large, lustrous diamond, but refrained, not wanting to discourage her friend in her moment of triumph by reminding her that her fiancé had no job.

But Tonks seemed to divine what she was thinking and said, "I'll explain about the ring in a minute. But let me tell you about that night. He was really wonderful. When he knocked on the door, I've never seen him act so shy. I was sitting down to dinner—nothing very impressive, but he joined me, and we hadn't been eating long before he suddenly started pouring his heart out. He told me that he had always loved me, that there had never been anyone else. He said that he had avoided a relationship to spare me danger and shame and poverty. But then he also said that he had been thinking, and realized that I would always run risks as an Auror and as a member of the Order. He saw what Grayback did to Bill and thought that it could just as easily have been me.

"And then he said the sweetest thing, Marian. It occurred to him that if he wanted to have any shot at all at protecting me, he needed to have a claim on me. He said that he knew he was selfish, but that he couldn't bear the idea of me turning to some other man.

"He also believes that this war will transform our society. Right now, as a freedom fighter, I am just as much an outcast as he is. Perhaps if we defeat You-Know-Who, he'll be able to get a job. He seemed very resolute. I suppose that he has been turning the idea over and over in his head, and has finally decided to make a go of it. I don't think he means to do this halfway, thank Merlin.

"He asked me to marry him, and gave me this ring. He said that it was the one thing he had inherited that he could never bear to pawn, even when he had to go without food for days. Even though he thought it was impossible, his heart could never let go of the hope that one day someone would love him and want to share her life with him. And he said that he had kept the ring as a symbol of that hope, and that he would give it to me, if I would have him," Tonks said, with a dreamy, faraway look in her eyes.

"Merlin!" murmured Marian, "That's the most wonderful, romantic thing I've ever heard. What happened then?"

"Oh, the sex," Tonks said, brightening, "It was incredible. That man seems so mild-mannered, but he's an animal in the bedroom. I can still hardly walk-"

"That wasn't really what I was asking," Marian answered in amusement, "I meant, did you guys set a date?"

"Next Saturday," Tonks beamed.

"Wow! That's quick," her friend said, although there was no censure in her tone.

"I know. But the sooner he's mine, the happier I'll be. Besides, I never cared much about big weddings. Neither of us is young or rich or pretentious. But I'd love it if you would come and stand up with me," she said cheerfully.

"You can count on it," Marian answered, and she left the pub feeling happier than she had been in weeks.

The wedding was beautiful, although she found it vaguely troubling that she stood coupled with Sirius Black, rather than the man she loved. Sirius kept trying to catch her eye, but she was distant with him and, after she congratulated the bride and groom, Disapparated. She knew it was cowardly of her, but she didn't feel like spoiling the day with a fight.

Marian did not hate Sirius Black. In fact, if Severus wasn't so critically important to her, they would probably never argue. But as it was, she constantly found herself at odds with him. When he tormented Severus, Marian got mean. She couldn't help herself. But she couldn't avoid Sirius forever, and at the beginning of August, found their paths crossing yet again. Missing the reception for Remus and Tonks at the Burrow was not an option, although she had long dreaded it for several reasons. Firstly, because there would be Order members there, and although most of the core members knew the truth about her loyalties, not all of them did, and they would wonder that she was included.

Marian had avoided most companionship over the summer, and it had been easy. With Tonks newly married, and the Weasleys preoccupied with elaborate wedding plans for Bill and Fleur, she had plenty of time to herself to work and mope. And she did plenty of both. She knew very well that Severus Snape was the most discussed topic these days. Overhearing conversations through her link with Harry told her that much. She understood that if she went out among people that she would hear nothing but venom spewed against Severus, about how he was a traitor, a murderer, and no-good from the start.

She knew that his critics-and _everyone_ seemed to fall into that category-were saying that if only Dumbledore had listened to their warnings against trusting the 'greasy coward' that he would still be alive. But that part didn't bother her. What she found troublesome was the fact that she couldn't retort with the truth and tell them that Severus was the victim of Dumbledore's contrivances, and that he was a far better man than _any_ of them. No, that wouldn't do at all. So she would have to suffer in silence—a skill she had never perfected.

Marian almost forgot her misgivings when she arrived on the front lawn of the Burrow, and heard sounds of laughter and merrymaking. It warmed her heart and she suddenly remembered how good these people actually were, and that they were on the right side. She couldn't blame them for thinking what they were intended to think-that Severus had betrayed them. After all, they were reacting properly. If she didn't have inside information—like an actual knowledge of Severus Snape's character, she might think the same as they did.

As Marian approached the kitchen on her way to find Molly, she was waylaid by a commotion in the dining room. Several people were huddled together looking at something, and as Marian put her hand on one of the Weasley twin's shoulders and craned her neck, she saw a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ lying unopened on the table. When she saw the headline, she had her answer. It read: "_Severus Snape: Hogwarts' New Headmaster_." It appeared that Severus was back in circulation.


	22. Chapter 22

Author's Note: I have become _way_ too immersed in the Harry Potter world. Today I ate at McAlister's and accidentally attempted to order the 'Muffliato', rather than the _'_Muffaletta_'_..._Awkward._

Also, I neglected to mention that the reason Mad-Eye Moody is still alive is because Harry never had to be retrieved from the Dursleys. Marian saved Sirius and so he lived and was able to become Harry's legal guardian. Hedwig also made it (This is starting to feel like _It's a Wonderful Life_...).

Chapter 22: Scaling the Citadel

Marian wanted to snatch up the paper and read the article in private, but knew there was no chance of that, at least not at the moment. But luckily, the discussion was still in full-swing, so she caught all of the news anyway. Kingsley Shacklebolt's deep, rich voice compelled her attention, "The _Prophet_'s been under pressure from You-Know-Who. He made the editors sit on this story for the last week. But even so, word has leaked out and there have already been three attempts on Snape's life."

"What happened? Did anybody manage to land a good hex on the greasy git?" asked George gleefully.

Marian shot him a reproachful glance, but luckily no one saw it. Kingsley shook his head and continued, "No, it was embarrassing really_. _For the Aurors. We kept getting calls from Hogwarts to come pick up would-be assassins. Snape managed to capture them all without getting any injuries….He really has the luck of the devil. One of those men had a Muggle weapon and shot at him from the gates while he was walking the grounds. Missed completely, more's the pity, and Snape is far more cautious these days. Now he's never seen outside the walls of the school. Apparently, You-Know-Who thinks it would be a setback if someone managed to kill his picked man, so he gave him strict orders to stay put. He's even appointed two of his Death Eaters as 'professors'. He argues that it's for security. But _whose_, I wonder."

"What do you mean? _Snape's_, of course," answered a blond that she didn't know, but guessed was one of Tonks' friends in the Auror department.

"Maybe. Maybe not. But historically, kings have always been more threatened by their barons than by the peasantry—a fact that You-Know-Who is well aware of," Kingsley answered enigmatically.

"You-Know-Who isn't our king!" exclaimed someone indignantly, and another called jokingly, "Hey Kingsley, who are you calling peasants?"

Kingsley merely laughed and shrugged, but Marian's quiet voice suddenly cut across the room, inquiring, "Are you saying that you don't think the Dark Lord trusts Sev—_him_?"

Knitting his brows, the tall black man answered, "I couldn't say for sure. I don't really know what goes on in the mind of someone like You-Know-Who. All I do know is that, according to Minerva, the authority of the Carrows—brother and sister—those Death Eaters in the castle I told you about, doesn't come from Snape at all. They seem to get their orders from You-Know-Who himself. Apparently, all the mail that goes to the school has to go through Amycus Carrow—_including_ letters for the headmaster. From what I hear, Snape isn't particularly happy about this. I suppose he doesn't like the idea of someone else reading all of the hate-mail he receives. Must be embarrassing for him. Also, there are some big aerial predators swooping around over Hogwarts. I couldn't really see what they were, but I suppose they're there to prevent the access of unauthorized owls. Dementors have even been spotted on the school's land.

"And another thing," Kingsley added reflectively, "The Floos at Hogwarts are all being monitored. _All_ of them. By You-Know-Who's agents in the Ministry. Looks a bit like paranoia on You-Know-Who's part to me."

Marian nodded absently, turning this new information over in her mind. Finally, she looked up and asked, "What about getting onto the Hogwarts grounds? Can it be done? By anyone besides Aurors, I mean."

A few people chuckled, although she noticed Sirius Black sitting on the other side of the table, and he seemed decidedly annoyed by her question. Bill Weasley, with his arms twined about his fiancée's waist asked amusedly, "Why do you ask, Marian? Are you planning a hit?"

She smirked and played along, "If I were, I certainly wouldn't tell you."

Sirius' eyebrows shot up in surprise, but Kingsley took her question seriously and responded, "I don't think so, actually. Security is pretty tight at Hogwarts. There will be no visitors allowed for the quidditch games and other events that used to be open to the public. I think that if you wanted to go there, you would be subjected to some pretty invasive questioning by the Death Eaters on staff. That place is no longer a school. It is a citadel—a bastion of strength for You-Know-Who, where the children of Britain's wizards are kept as hostages against any 'innovations' by the parents. If you read the next article down, you'll see that all children that have shown any signs of magical ability are required to attend Hogwarts. If the parents try to homeschool them or put them in other institutions, they will receive a stay in Azkaban and their children will be taken away from them by the Ministry."

"But that's outrageous!" exclaimed Sirius, "I refuse to deliver Harry into the hands of You-Know-Who's ugliest and most faithful Death Eater."

Marian rolled her eyes. No matter what the real issue was Sirius could never resist taking a jab at Snape, even when he wasn't there to hear him. Everyone else began murmuring in assent and growing anxiety at the thought of sending Harry to Hogwarts in a couple of weeks, but Marian knew that they need have no worries on that score. Harry had very definitive plans of his own, which she had been privy to via her remaining listening device. As awful as she felt about Dumbledore's death, it was considerably easier to eavesdrop on only one conversation at a time, rather than two. Right now, Harry was wrestling with the idea of asking Sirius to accompany him and his two friends on the Horcrux hunt he had inherited from Dumbledore.

Marian thought this an extraordinarily bad idea. If Dumbledore had given Harry the task, it was for a good reason. He had said that Ron and Hermione might help, but had remained conspicuously silent on the subject of Sirius Black. Marian realized that Sirius was an extremely capable and charismatic man. Since he was now, for all practical purposes, Harry's legal guardian, besides being many years senior to the three teenagers, he would automatically become the leader of the expedition. She felt that this would be very unfortunate, because if Harry was to grow into the man he needed to become to defeat the Dark Lord, then he needed to step out on his own and stop thinking like a child and depending on adults for rules and protection. Also, he had been the one privy to the memories of Voldemort's youth, and she thought it critical that he be allowed to follow his own instincts.

So Marian was considering sending him an anonymous note, cautioning him against inviting Sirius—who would surely invite Lupin. She didn't want to do anything yet, but if she had to step in later, she would. She hoped that the Order would give Sirius a task of his own to keep him busy, and out of the Ministry's sight. With the Fidelius Charm on Grimmauld Place, he could stay at home, but his previous house arrest had gone rather disastrously. No, Sirius needed a job and the open air. But then she shook herself. Finding an occupation for Sirius fell into the category of Order business, not hers.

She wandered over to look at the remarkable clock, whose hands all pointed to 'Mortal Peril'. Even this clock was frozen in time by the menace of Voldemort. It struck Marian that this clock was a microcosm of the entire wizarding world. Everyone was too scared to alter their habits. Even with all of the unbelievable changes, wizards would be sending their students to school in the fall as usual, although they all thought that the new headmaster had just murdered the old headmaster. In spite of the fact that all of Britain was covered over by the pall of this dark wizard, most people were still trying to pretend that nothing important had changed. Boy would they be in for a surprise, Marian thought cynically.

"There is more afoot than just the changes at the school—although those are significant enough," said Arthur quietly.

"Are you talking about what you brought up at the last meeting?" inquired Tonks, who had just arrived on the scene with Remus, and the two were holding hands. Remus looked a little pink, and Marian didn't have to wonder about what they had been up to out on the front steps.

"That's right. And guess who's going to be heading the Commission?" he asked sarcastically.

"Who? Has You-Know-Who appointed Snape to _that_ post, too?" Sirius sneered.

"No, but it's someone almost as bad…_Dolores Umbridge_," Arthur announced, to the consternation of the present Order members and to the befuddlement of everyone else.

"_What_ is Umbridge in charge of?" Marian asked impatiently.

Arthur glanced around apologetically, "Sorry, I forget that a lot of you don't know yet. But there's going to be Muggle-Born registration, with a commission to determine blood status. Umbridge is set to head it," he explained.

"But that's just—preposterous!" she exclaimed, and barely stopped herself from adding, "The Dark Lord himself is a half-blood."

"It is, but I fear that it's only the beginning," he said wearily.

Molly had been standing in the doorway for a little while and had caught the end of the conversation. Sensing that the mood was growing dismal and reflective, she said brightly, "Never mind about that now. The newlyweds are finally here, so let's start celebrating! Fred, George, go and get the gifts."

The afternoon and evening passed cheerily, and Marian was able to catch up with several of the friends she had been neglecting. She had brought a few bags of American Muggle chips (or 'crisps', as the others dubbed them) with her and poured them into bowls to go with the rest of the snacks on the table, but nothing could have prepared her for the excitement with which they were received by Arthur. He fell head-over-heels in love with the 'chili cheese chips' that she had picked up as an afterthought, and had made her promise to keep him supplied with them.

As she sat outside, enjoying the warm evening and the perfect picture that the moon made rising over the trees and the loveable, ramshackle house, she suddenly felt a tap on her shoulder. She shied away from the offending finger almost imperceptibly before glancing up to see who was trying to garner her attention. Her heart sank when she saw that it was Sirius.

He looked very handsome in his signature black leather jacket, and once again she was strongly aware of his edgy appeal. His cologne smelled delicious and yet—he wasn't Severus. Severus didn't wear some store-bought product, she thought fondly. His persona wasn't artfully calculated to seduce. His scent was just a blend of the parchments and potions that surrounded him, along with his own soap and shampoo. Whatever the combination, it was heaven to Marian.

Sirius sank down onto the seat beside her and leaned back against the wall. It showed his chiseled profile off to full advantage. She wondered if he knew. The two of them sat in the shadows, at a little distance from the others, who lounged around in twos and threes watching the younger set play nighttime quidditch. Tonks and Lupin had just left, presumably to go play some 'nighttime quidditch' of their own. Marian grimaced comically at the thought.

"What's wrong? That sorry to see me?" he asked lightly.

"It's not you….I was just thinking about Remus and Tonks…and night quidditch…and I grossed myself out," Marian said wryly.

He laughed out loud and replied, "Yes. I'm sure they left to do just that. If _you're_ horrified at the thought, imagine how_ I_ feel. She's my cousin! ...But now that they've left, I'm sure the party will be over soon and I wanted to have a word with you."

"Alright," she said, looking him squarely in the eye. If he thought she was going to apologize for the things she had said the last time they'd met, he had better think again.

"I like you Marian," he said honestly, catching her off-guard, and added, "But we have always been at odds concerning Snape."

"Yes, he has always been the point of contention between us," she replied cautiously.

"Well, now there's no need for that anymore. We finally see eye-to-eye! You felt sorry for him, thinking he was the underdog, and that he was just misunderstood. But surely even _you_ can't continue to champion him now that he's murdered Dumbledore," he said confidently, looking to her for assent.

"No matter what he's done, I don't think that your behavior towards him was justified," she answered quietly.

"How can you say that? There's nothing he doesn't deserve! _Hell_ is too good for him. He's a traitor, and he killed the only one that ever gave a damn about him," Sirius retorted hotly, his brown eyes glittering like live coals.

"But he wasn't a murderer back then—a week ago, a month ago…when he was a miserable lonely little child," she replied sadly, mentally adding that he wasn't a murderer _now_, either.

He let out a sharp bark of laughter that jarred her, and sneered, "Bill's got it all wrong. If you go up to Hogwarts, it won't be for a hit. It'll be for a _tryst_."

Marian narrowed her eyes and said coldly, "You really can't take it when people disagree with you, can you?"

He fumbled for a cigarette and lit it wandlessly, taking a deep drag and blowing out the smoke in measured puffs. After a moment, he spoke again, and seemed to have regained his equilibrium, "I always thought you were sensible. Please tell me that you're not the kind of weak girl that clings to the morally bankrupt man, living on fantasies of how your love and virtuous example will bring him back to the light. Or perhaps you're the kind to 'stand by your man', even though he's a murderer," he said snidely.

Marian sighed. Arguments exhausted her. She didn't know why Sirius was always spoiling for a fight. She wondered that he had the energy. "No and no. You're right. I could never love a murderer," she said blandly.

For some reason, this perked him up and he propped one knee up on the bench and turned to look at her. "Well, that's great then," he answered cheerfully, "It looks like we're on the same page after all. Now that all that unpleasantness is behind us, what are you doing for dinner tomorrow night?"

She stood abruptly and began pacing; her slim figure nothing but a ghostly shadow in the moonlight. The longer she paced, the faster she moved and the more uneasy Sirius grew. Finally he spoke up again, saying firmly, "I _said_ that I would like to take you to dinner tomorrow night. Are you available?"

She spun to face him, and her gossamer skirts twirled about with the swift movement. "Sirius, I want us to be friends. But that's only going to be possible if we avoid any kind of romantic entanglement and if we stop discussing Severus Snape. I don't want to hear about him, about how awful he is or how you warned me, _et cetera, ad infinitum_. I think that if we can steer clear of those two hurdles, that we'll get along famously," Marian said quietly, but fervently.

In a move she didn't expect, he leapt to his feet and caught her by her upper arms, exclaiming earnestly, "But what about what _I_ want? That isn't enough and you know it! Friendship is all very well, but if I have to spell it out for you, then I want you the way a man wants a woman."

"Sirius, that's impossible! Let go of me!" she said, trying vainly to step back from him, but he was relentless, holding her close enough that she felt the warmth of his body across the small space between them.

"Why is it impossible, Marian? _Why_? If there's no one else, why won't you give me a chance? I'm not such a bad guy, you know. I'm not a bully now and I wasn't even really one at school. Besides Snape, I doubt anyone I knew back then has any real grievance against me," he pressed.

In a nearly inaudible voice, Marian reluctantly answered, "I never _said_ that there was no one else."

"Ah," he said, with a peculiar little smile that was almost a grimace. His hold went slack for a moment and Marian considered jerking away, but didn't want to follow her verbal jab with an emotional upper-cut. Also, she was afraid of falling backwards over the hedge, which pressed against the back of her knees.

Suddenly, he grasped her tightly again and began staring keenly into her eyes. "Who is he?" he asked, trembling with emotion and suppressed energy.

Trying to remain diplomatic, even though she greatly disliked the liberties he was taking, she answered, "Someone that intrigued me from the first moment I saw him. I feel like he was made for me….Do you understand?"

"Of course I do," he said bitterly, "That's exactly how I've always felt about you."

"Sirius, I'm sorry," she intoned.

He laughed his strangled laugh again and then stared at her intensely for a moment, before breathing huskily, "Tell me who he is. If you don't, I'll assume that you've made him up and then I'll have absolutely no scruples about kissing you until you see things my way. You can't honestly tell me that you've never thought about it…what it would be like to be in my bed, covered with my body, and-"

Growing annoyed, Marian pulled as far away from him as she could, digging her heels into the gravel. She said sharply, "There_ is_ someone that I love, and I won't be confessing it to you before I confess it to him. I wouldn't advise kissing me….no one with any self-respect at all would allow herself to be seduced by you when she loves another man, accepting the substitution of pleasure for the ideal of a real, passionate love. Also, I'm not at all what you think I am. I'm not made of the same soft stuff that I wear. You have no right to manhandle me like this, and if you don't let go of me this instant and leave off your threats, you'll soon see me as I _really_ am, which should be enough to destroy your _idée fixe_ concerning a relationship between us!"

Sirius' lips curled, but his eyes lit up. "That sounds like a dare, my dear. And of course you already know what happens when you dare a Gryffindor…" he murmured, and began pulling her in, before suddenly yelping and leaping back, looking down at the underside of his hands, which were quickly breaking out in large, pus-filled sores.

He shot Marian a glare full of outrage and accusation, and once she had a few feet between them, she silently canceled the spell and the sores began to recede rapidly. After a few moments, Sirius never would have known they had been there at all, if it wasn't for the unpleasant memory and a phantom tingling in his hands and arms.

Slightly apologetic, Marian said, "Sirius, I've always known my own mind and I've never led you on—never even flirted with you. I wouldn't know how. Even if there was no other man, we would still be a poor fit."

"Why do you say that?" he asked, in a voice that was almost businesslike. It had shed all of its dark allure after the pustule outbreak.

Incredulously, she answered, "Really? You have to ask? Well, for starters, because of this-because we fight all the time. We don't ever see eye-to-eye, and our arguments usually get ugly. There's a lot of tension between us, but I'm pretty sure it's not the sexual kind. Besides, even though my head recognizes how attractive you are, my heart is drawn to a look completely different from yours."

"But that's nothing," Sirius scoffed, "If we were together, we would enjoy making up so much that the fights would be ninety-nine percent anticipation. And as far as being drawn to other looks, what does _that_ have to do with anything? I'm attracted to you, and you have dark hair. But that doesn't mean that women with blonde hair don't do anything for me."

"Sirius, once again, our ideas don't quite match up. Now that I'm in love, I don't see other men as options-as different styles to try out. I know that maybe I'm single-minded, but there is this one man, and he's _everything._ All the rest are _nothing_—or friends, of course. This particular man has his flaws and if an objective panel took the two of you side-by-side and compared you feature by feature, I have no doubt that you would come out ahead. But I _cannot_ be objective. He is dear to me, and everyone else falls short of him in every way that matters. I wouldn't want to change him, and I wouldn't want anyone that wasn't him—even just to try them out for the novelty. I think I'd die a little if I did," she exclaimed passionately.

Sirius' face changed. Shrewdness took the place of the petulance and belligerence that had graced his visage moments before. An ugly suspicion was resurging in his mind and he spat it out in one contemptuous word, "_Snape_."

"What?" Marian asked, keeping her expression politely blank.

"You just said a moment ago that _I_ had no right to manhandle you…but not very long ago I remember you saying that Snape had 'every right to touch you'. Your talk about how this man that's everything to you isn't as blessed as I am in the looks department….I've been a fool. The signs were always there. After all, we've acknowledged before that Snape has _always_ been the bone of contention between us. You have always taken his side against me. I used to think that you enjoyed baiting me by playing devil's advocate, but it was so much more than that, _wasn't_ it, Marian?" he asked, in an ugly tone.

"I thought we had ruled Snape out earlier…but you_ do_ have a certain preoccupation with him, don't you? I wonder that you never propositioned_ him_," Marian answered shortly, sounding slightly bored.

"If you were a man, I'd beat you to within an inch of your life for saying a thing like that," Sirius snarled.

"Alright, I'll admit that was below the belt," she conceded, pleased that her insult had achieved the desired effect of diverting his attention away from herself and Severus. A moment later she added, "But I think you're finally starting to see what I mean….I'm not the girl for you. I'm very flattered—you're by far the best-looking man ever to take an interest in me, and I can easily see how you would be most women's ideal…even mine, once upon a time…but, well, the heart can be very unpredictable….Do you think that we can ever be friends?"

Marian looked around and noticed that the quidditch game was over. Molly and the twins were busy tidying up the plates and cups lying about near the lawn furniture and casting interested glances in their direction. Sirius seemed to notice as well and it brought him back to the present. He no longer felt isolated in his tête-à-tête with Marian. Dropping gracefully onto the bench in a gesture that immediately struck her as one of surrender, Sirius leaned back and chuckled softly, ironically, murmuring, "When we were teenagers, I used to laugh at poor Wormtail. Girls were always telling him that they just wanted to be his friends. It never happened to me though….I suppose I never thought it would, and I'm finding the experience to be rather insulting, to be honest. But you're the first woman that's ever turned me down. Either I'm getting old and losing my game, or there's something special about you, or something special about the other person, or there's something wrong with you….I don't suppose it matters, in the end. I like you; always have. And I suppose that I respect you. You're a lady, and those aren't too easy to find nowadays. So I'll agree to _part_ of your terms. I do want your friendship, and I want you to feel that you can count on me for anything.

"On the other hand, I'm not going to tread lightly where Snape is concerned. He_ is_ a traitor and a murderer. The rest of the wizarding world acknowledges it. Why shouldn't I, since I have more cause than most? So even though I don't plan to leave off insulting him, I don't intend to delve into your feelings concerning him. Obviously, you can't accept what he's done. You feel very close to him, and still need to get your head on straight. But I can't help you with that and it will only make me angry to discuss it, so let's not," he said matter-of-factly, and after a moment's reflection, Marian could find nothing to disagree with concerning any of the things he had said. Sometimes he surprised her with wisdom or humor, which made her like him better than before and realize that, although far from perfect, he wasn't altogether without promise.

"You've got a deal," she said with a small smile, walking towards him to shake hands.

"No tricks, now!" he joked, "I didn't much like what happened the last time I touched you."

"I'm sorry about that, Sirius!" she said earnestly, and clasped his hand with both of hers.

His lopsided smile reasserted itself and he answered, "All is forgiven. You were right to hex me."

Then he leaned forward conspiratorially and whispered, "Because if you hadn't, I was fully prepared to carry out my 'threat'."

She laughed a bit uncertainly, but in a gesture of good faith, linked her arm with his and pulled him to his feet. The two began strolling slowly towards the Weasley twins, who had long since abandoned any pretense of working and had been listening with great interest to the exchange.

"Well, to your credit, I'm sure that usually works," Marian answered him drily.

"Until today, I was able to say it _always_ worked," Sirius grumbled good-naturedly. Marian elbowed him lightly and he grunted theatrically, making a great spectacle of himself before the twins.

"Well, have you two decided to make up or break up?" George piped in.

"Unfortunately, we have decided to 'break up'….So now I suppose I'll just have to wait until your sister grows up," Sirius teased, and the other three all exclaimed in amusement and horror.

"That is just not right," Marian laughed.

Sirius basked in their attention for a moment and then prepared to Apparate away, but not before leaning towards Marian with a smirk and purring, "I noticed that you didn't answer me earlier…._You never said you hadn't thought about it_." And with that, he turned on his heel and vanished away.

Marian shook her head in bemusement. The man really was relentless. She wondered if he would be able to keep their pact. But months passed, with no problems from him. Marian supposed that she had finally been brutal enough to turn him away for good. No one enjoys rejection, after all. Although Sirius had experienced women that had played hard to get, she had taken it to a new level. Marian had never given him promising signals, and had never been flustered by his proximity; apart from the general distaste she felt whenever anyone invaded her personal space. Perhaps he had finally separated himself enough from his own excitement to grasp that he wasn't having the desired effect on her.

But Marian conceded that Sirius had a lot more on his mind than winning over a recalcitrant witch. Harry, Hermione and Ron had disappeared during Bill and Fleur's wedding reception. Marian had received a mysterious owl that warned her not to attend the wedding 'unless she wanted someone to draw the wrong conclusion', but had gone anyway, deciding to remain on her guard. When masked Death Eaters crashed the reception, she suddenly grasped the import of the message. All of the guests scattered, and the multiple frantic pops of Disapparition sounded like the corks of the champagne bottles, which had been opened only a little earlier in the evening.

She Disillusioned herself and remained, carefully avoiding the wildly flying curses. After a few moments, her earpiece finally transmitted what she had been waiting to hear: Harry and his friends had made it away safely. Then she herself Disapparated. Harry hadn't made a decision about whether to ask Sirius to accompany him; and when the Death Eaters stepped in, he had had to move without involving his godfather. From their connection, Marian had gathered that he and his two friends were sleeping outside in a tent that Hermione had packed for them, and had all of the necessaries for the moment. She also knew that he had sent Sirius a Patronus, telling him that he was on a mission for Dumbledore and that he probably wouldn't see him again until the end of the war.

Sirius had taken the news rather badly and raged about, angry that he had been left out and searching frantically for Harry in every corner of wizarding Britain. From what Tonks had told her, Sirius' behavior had alarmed the Order to such a degree that Mad-Eye Moody, now its leader, gave him assignment after assignment. He tried to keep Sirius busy with his own tasks so that he would forget about Harry's and stop going out looking for him and risk getting detained for questioning. As Harry's guardian, the Ministry would hold him responsible for the boy missing school.

Whatever the reason, her interactions with Sirius had been pleasant and friendly ever since that party at the Weasleys. He had been receiving regular updates from Harry, and now that he had plenty of important work of his own to occupy his restless, clever mind, he seemed more engaging and less sulky. Marian thought that his new responsibilities had done him a world of good. He eventually stopped searching for Harry, and she sensed that Sirius credited Harry with maturity, and viewed the boy as more friend than godson.

But if her relationship with Sirius had taken a turn for the better, events in the wizarding world had taken a nosedive. She worked feverishly on her side-projects and her cases at St. Mungo's. She sometimes visited the Burrow and Grimmauld Place, but very infrequently. All sorts of Ministry crackdowns were taking place, and as a quarter-blood, she didn't want to draw too much attention to herself. Marian dreaded a summons from the Dark Lord that never came, although he kept up his end of their bargain. No one from the Ministry ever bothered her, and she was one of few that could say that. There seemed to be a new law every day and whispers spread about hearings for Muggleborns, about courtrooms filled with Dementors and special camps where most of the accused were spirited off, not to be heard from again.

Marian kept an ear to the ground, in more ways than one. She read the_ Daily Prophet_ and the _Quibbler_ every day, and if anyone around her spoke of Hogwarts, she dropped whatever she was doing and eavesdropped on the conversation. She also paid close attention to Harry's link. She felt the same excitement as the children when they discovered the meaning of the letters R.A.B., the initials of the thief that had stolen the genuine locket Horcrux and replaced it with a fake. Harry and his friends raided Grimmauld Place when Sirius was gone, searching for the locket among Regulus Black's things, and then they heard from the elf, Kreacher, that Mundungus had pinched it. When the children broke into the Ministry to steal it from its new owner, Umbridge, Marian was nearly petrified with terror that they would be found out and caught. But they slipped past Voldemort's minions once again and continued their search for the other Horcruxes.

Marian missed Severus. This separation was worse than previous ones. Even though she had gone months without seeing him once before, misunderstanding rather than danger had kept them apart. But now she worried about him all the time. Very little news leaked out of Hogwarts, since even the students' owls were being censored, but what had had trickled down to her was highly upsetting. Severus had been forced to discontinue Slughorn's teaching of the practical aspect of Potions, making it a theory-only course. Apparently, the students were so frazzled by the punishments being doled out by the professors-cum-Death Eaters that they weren't able to concentrate and many dangerous accidents had resulted. Marian could only imagine what Severus' life was like now-despised by the staff, trying to protect the students and keep the school running while appearing to be Voldemort's man.

She slept with a vial of Polyjuice on her bedside table, so that it was always the last thing she saw before going to sleep and the first thing she saw when she woke up, because it had been a gift from _him_. Marian had also held onto the anonymous note warning her away from the Weasley wedding. She had read and reread it, and convinced herself that it was his prose, even if the handwriting was disguised. She knew that she was being silly. Marian had never been sentimental before. But now everything that he had touched, tasted, or remarked on had become inextricably linked to him in her mind. Marian found herself only drinking out of the wineglass he had used when he had come to visit her to discuss spells, and wearing the same hairpins that his fingers had brushed against when he had held her hair, two years before. She had set them apart from her others as sacred the night it had happened. She couldn't bring herself to walk past the café in Diagon Alley where they had dined together. In a word, she was hopeless.

Marian schemed on a thousand ways to visit him. She didn't think it would be a good idea to have it known to the Dark Lord that she was interested enough in Severus to insinuate herself into Hogwarts. So she opted to visit him by stealth, knowing that it would be difficult. She felt that if she could just see his face, stern to everyone but her, that everything would be alright. But she didn't want to draw suspicion down on him by a clandestine meeting unless she had several useful things to give him. Marian knew that she could get away with visiting him once, but that it would be extremely dangerous to try it multiple times. So she would wait until she had perfected her spells and accumulated enough information to warrant a visit. But right before Christmas Eve, she received information that made her realize the time had come to act.

From the window of the headmaster's tower office, Severus Snape stared out over the bleak landscape. The grounds were cloaked with snow, but the early fall of night made the lands seem covered over with something black and unclean instead. The silhouettes of the trees and shrubs appeared blurred and unfamiliar. He thought back to the night when_ it_ had happened. The night he had killed Dumbledore, but he felt like he had been the one to die. He felt separated from the rest of the human race by an impassable gulf. Even _she_ had abandoned him…but he couldn't blame her for that, although her desertion was a chronic hurt that never faded.

He had wondered a thousand times what would have happened if he had given a different answer to the Dark Lord, once he had made his 'triumphant' return to Malfoy Manor after killing the man he had hated and loved. After all, Dumbledore had been as much a father to him as his natural one—although, at best, that still only made him a distant, unloving, rather demanding and unsympathetic figure.

The Dark Lord had welcomed Severus with delight, and had been in a sparkling mood the entire evening, even pardoning the Malfoys on his request. As a reward for destroying his most powerful enemy, he had appointed Severus headmaster of Hogwarts—a position that he had pretended to covet, but in reality had never wanted. He was an introvert, a scientist and disliked all of the paperwork and public relations.

Walking the halls of Hogwarts under the contemptuous gazes of Minerva McGonagall, Filius Flitwick, and the others—his own former teachers that he had secretly always wanted to impress-was a daily torment, and he had known that it would be so from the beginning. Occupying the murdered man's office, quarters, his chair in the Great Hall, compounded his guilt a hundred-fold. He had never stopped hating himself from the moment of the killing, and the day he walked back through the gates of Hogwarts, that hate became something stronger—a loathing so powerful that its natural end was suicide, if combined with the necessary hopelessness, which Severus fortunately lacked.

But he had pretended to be grateful to the Dark Lord, and had told him that now he would finally have the opportunity to see that young wizards received a_ real_ education. Severus would never forget what the Dark Lord had said next. He had said, "Severus, perhaps there is something else that you would like….Most wizards seem to enjoy the company of beautiful women….I could acquire one for you…a certain curse-breaker, for instance."

His blood had frozen in his veins and uncertainly he had asked, "My Lord?"

The Dark Lord had steepled his unnaturally long hands in front of him and fixed Severus with his eerie red eyes, "You were seen in the company of a most attractive and powerful witch not so long ago. You seemed quite taken with her, and if you like, I will procure her for your wife."

Something about the Dark Lord's manner made Severus sense that this was a test, rather than an offer. Severus had never shown an interest in any of the female Death Eaters, and had always told the Dark Lord that he preferred activities of the mind to those of the body, which had endeared him to his 'master', who had felt that they had this in common. As a Legilimens, Severus sometimes detected the surface thoughts of others without trying, especially when he was carefully controlling his own thoughts. The Dark Lord was even more powerful than he when it came to delving into the minds of others, but he was arrogant, and believed himself to be uneclipsed in the nearly forgotten art, so he rarely guarded his own thoughts. Severus felt a flash of suspicion that wasn't his own, and knew at once that the Dark Lord distrusted his association with Marian. He thought that, together, they would be far too powerful. He also feared change and the influence this witch might bring to bear on his cleverest and most able lieutenant.

So Severus had answered, "My Lord, Dumbledore sent me to assist her in finding a cure for that cursed child, and so I had no choice but to accompany her to Knockturn Alley. I have not seen her since, and have no wish to. Besides, you know me from the old days. Even when I was the age when most men marry, I was only ever dedicated to you and my books. I have never desired a wife. Now that I am older and more set in my ways, I especially wish to escape that punishment."

The Dark Lord had thrown back his head and laughed mirthlessly, "Not a wife then. Perhaps...a _mistress_."

"Somehow, I doubt that she would take kindly to being anyone's mistress—and especially not mine," Severus had remarked drily.

"Ah, but if _I_ encourage her…" the Dark Lord had trailed off suggestively.

"There is no need for that. I have no desire for a mistress either. Women only complicate one's life. And Ms. Oliver, although she is perfectly well, as far as women go, means nothing to me. There is nothing between us. You know that I would tell you at once if there was," Severus had told him, keeping his manner cool and detached.

"I expect you would," the Dark Lord had mused, "But she is a remarkably gifted young woman, and fair to look upon. What if I sent her to Hogwarts as a professor? I will still assign Amycus and Alecto Carrow to you—those two will help immeasurably with discipline, but it would be easy enough to create another opening on the staff. What about Transfiguration? Perhaps it's time I _retired_ Minerva McGonagall…she_ is_ very old, and she was very close to Dumbledore. What do you think, Severus?"

Severus had been alarmed by the direction the conversation had taken. He knew perfectly well that the Dark Lord had used the word 'retire' as a euphemism, so he had answered prudently, "Ms. Oliver is an excellent _curse-breaker_, but that ability might not translate well to the classroom. She has a gift for puzzles, not lectures and grading and disciplining students. The day I worked with her she told me that she loathed children and didn't know how I stood teaching….Even if Minerva is not in our camp, she is harmless politically and quite a good Transfiguration professor. Perhaps we could retire her next year, after we have had time to look around and discern the best possible candidates. Besides, you may find uses for a good curse-researcher."

The Dark Lord had nodded, and Severus sensed a certain satisfaction coming from him, and understood that the conversation had played out the way he had hoped. But now, standing alone in the bare office, bereft of comfort or compassion, he almost wished that he had responded differently to the questions that day….He would never _really_ have dragged Marian into the Dark Lord's sights, but he enjoyed fantasizing that he had agreed she should come to Hogwarts. Then his imagination would take him even further, and he would tell himself that if only _she_ were here, everything would be okay. If she were at the school teaching, she would be the one person to care for him. She would understand and forgive him and they could work together as they once had.

And then he would shake himself out of his pleasant fantasy and the reality would crush him down, appearing even bleaker than before the daydream. In the office filled with the portraits of former headmasters, all covered and silenced, their painted ears blocked with magic, Severus would sit alone in the darkness, and hate himself.

He had always been an outcast, and was no stranger to crushing loneliness, but after having felt her arms around him and remembering how she had always protected him, taken his side, and treated him like he was special, the loneliness had grown to life-threatening proportions. Despair stalked the halls of his heart, as he himself haunted the Hogwarts corridors at night. He had always felt trapped, and striding through the endless passages had brought an illusive sense of freedom. Now he felt more restless than ever. The spaces he currently occupied seemed inundated with the dead man's personality. Between his cabin fever and the nightmares that found him when he finally managed to sleep, he ended up spending most of his nights wandering alone, like one lost. He told himself that he did this to be aware of what was happening in the school and in order to see and be able to rescue any children that might fall into the Carrows' clutches. But his rationalizations failed to drown out the Furies that nipped his heels.

A loud, insolent knock sounded on his door and he turned from the window and his unhappy musings to call, "Enter," in laconic tones.

Marian had packed her small bag, careful that it contained everything that she would need because she would only be making this trip once, and it had to count. After applying a Feather-Light Charm, she transfigured the bag to a small roll of parchment, and attached it to her slim ankle with a sliding knot. She had deposited Ms. Bear with Ginny Weasley, in case something should go wrong and she wasn't able to return the same night.

Marian stepped outside and shivered. This year's winter seemed especially cold. She wondered fleetingly if the low temperatures had anything to do with the widespread presence of the Dementors. But she had heard none of the Brits complaining about the weather, so she would have to make do as well.

She Apparated to the outskirts of Hogsmeade, to a place she had noted earlier. Even though it appeared that no one was about, she took no chances, wearing a black cloak with a hood that completely obscured her face. After a moment of concentration, she could feel herself morphing into her Animagus form. She grew very small, and instinctively fluffed her feathers against the chill north wind.

Marian was a sparrowhawk. She had discovered her Animagus form when she was already an adult, so she had the prudence to recognize immediately the vulnerability that came from her tiny size. She enjoyed the giddy delight of flying, but rarely transformed, understanding that even though she was a bird of prey herself, she had many natural predators in this shape. As she spread her warm brown wings and sailed into the air, revealing her brown-barred underparts, Marian reflected that the characterization was apt. She couldn't really quarrel with the suitability of her Animagus appearance, although she had initially been disappointed, wanting something larger, stronger, more exotic. But the more she thought about it, the more she saw the resemblance. The sparrowhawk was an ambusher, powerful for its size, and relentlessly attacking all manner of other birds.

The first time she had transformed, she had gazed earnestly at herself in a mirror and realized that she differed from a genuine bird only by her eyes, which had kept their own color, rather than assuming the generic yellow hue. But that would hardly give her away tonight, as she swept along over the forbidden forest, staying a little above the tree line and winging her way cautiously, careful not to follow a straight course. Marian could see the castle on the hilltop, rising majestically over the trees. There was a light on in one of the tower windows. Her heart spilled over with love and warmth when she realized that it was probably the headmaster's tower and that her Severus might be inside.

And then she grew careless. In her anticipation, she stopped zigzagging, instead throwing herself towards the ramparts with abandon. Marian had momentarily forgotten something critical: Hogwarts had an aerial guard to keep out unauthorized owls. She was half-way across the school grounds and admiring the smooth plains and frozen lake beneath her when something whizzed past. Something considerably larger than herself. Warned of the danger, Marian drew on her impressive speed, making for the castle, which would provide her with cover.

Perhaps her fleetness would have saved her had only the one enemy been aware of her trespassing, but she was able to see multiple birds closing in. She hurtled through the air, swooping and diving and acting on instincts she hadn't realized she possessed. But the others moved quickly, almost as quickly as she did. One dove in and pierced her left wing with its razor-like beak. She could hear the bones crack and felt the wind knocked out of her. Furious over her own carelessness, and terrified that she would fall, and end up a small broken creature devoured there in the snow, she redoubled her efforts, making for the castle in crazy, drunken spirals. Irrelevantly, Marian had the vindictive thought that at least _Muggles_ warned enemy aircraft when they entered restricted airspace, rather than just automatically shooting them down. But these great birds were bent on her destruction.

She grew very near her goal, soaring above the bulwarks and weaving in a pain-fueled panic around tall spires and curious promontories, before she suddenly realized that she was no longer being pursued. The large birds—whatever they were—seemed to have halted at an invisible boundary. Marian felt very grateful for the fact, because she knew without a doubt that in another moment they would have caught her.

She could feel herself growing feeble and felt rather than saw that she was bleeding freely. She imagined the spatters she must be leaving in the snow far below, but it would snow again before morning, and would cover her traces. No one need ever know about her, unless she failed to reach a perch, and her body was discovered on the ground. But perhaps the snow would cover even her….Marian shook herself from her melancholy musings and made for the window in the tower.

She didn't dare land anywhere else. If she failed to gain entry to the castle, she would bleed or freeze to death in the night. She couldn't decide which death was the more likely scenario. From the difficulty she was having maneuvering, she suspected that the lack of blood would be the thing that killed her. But in spite of her dark, transient thoughts, she made for the light with every fiber of her small body. At last, the vast stone wall loomed directly ahead of her and she landed on the narrow sill, sinking slightly into a thick ribbon of snow. Obviously, the ornate, latticed window had not been opened in some time. Her hearing in this form was better than normal and she could hear her blood drip onto the snow, melting little rivulets into it. The silence outside the school was absolute. The aerial predators had made no cry when they attacked, and raised no clamor now that their prey had slipped past, although doubtlessly they assumed her mortally wounded. She knew that they were still out there, and shivered at the thought of attempting to pass them again.

She raised her beak to peck the glass, but forbore at once. It was indeed the correct room. Marian recognized it as Dumbledore's office, although it was completely altered. Gone was the cozy chaos. Now a bleak emptiness pervaded, epitomized by the man that currently occupied the desk chair. Severus Snape sat with the lordly posture of someone that had been mocked as a child for slouching. He seemed paler than before, and his strongly-molded features were set in a neutral expression that somehow still managed to reveal a hint of derision. His robes were still the heavy, black teaching variety, flowing in thick folds like a judge's. Marian could only see his profile, but could tell that his eyes revealed nothing to the rather ugly man and woman standing on the other side of the desk haranguing him. Severus had the composure of a sphinx. If she put her ear up to the glass, she found that she was able to hear the conversation tolerably well.

"You're always interfering!" exclaimed the squat man wearing a dirty set of expensive green robes, and whose face displayed the sort of low cunning Marian would expect to find in a pickpocket, rather than a professor. She immediately grasped that these two—for the woman looked remarkably similar to the man—must be the Death Eaters that everyone was talking about. Severus appeared not the least bit interested in the man's dramatics, which seemed to incense him even more and he squawked, "Sending them to Hagrid? He never punishes them properly, which you know right enough. In fact, he's an old mate of theirs! Collab—collude—congregating with them and the Order."

Severus didn't bat an eyelash at the man's solecism, but maintained the attitude of one that has been inured to the humor of the thing by too many viewings. In bored tones, Severus answered him, in a richly cultured voice that was worlds apart from that of his ignorant compatriot, "Whether Hagrid and the students are on friendly terms is irrelevant to the matter at hand. So are his shortcomings…which I will be the first to acknowledge are many."

Then Severus went in for the kill, leaning forward and murmuring silkily, "As for your concerns that the children will not be reprimanded 'properly', I believe that as the headmaster of this school, the ultimate right to designate punishments resides with _me_….We have been over this multiple times, and I grow tired of repeating myself. This is a _school_. It is_ not_ a prison camp, and if Salazar Slytherin believed torture to be an inappropriate method of punishment, who are _you_ to introduce it? When you go against my express orders and question me in front of the others, we lose solidarity and make the Dark Lord's administration appear foolish."

"Make _you_ look foolish, you mean," countered the woman mutinously.

Marian wondered that she had the gall to bait him. Apparently his bluff with these two was wearing off. Severus seemed to realize this and changed tacks. If he couldn't bully them anymore, he could certainly manipulate them.

"Alecto," he said softly, in very dangerous tones, "You operate under the misapprehension that I am on the side of the 'teachers' and that you and your brother must stand up for the 'Death Eater' agenda….But you have yet to realize fully your _purpose_ here at Hogwarts. The Dark Lord did not send you here so that you might indulge your own deviant proclivities for abusing children. This is an _assignment_—not the _reward_ you seem to think it is. We are placed at Hogwarts to _educate_ the students, and to indoctrinate them with our beliefs.

"Of _course_ the children are hostile and rebellious. To them, we are an occupying force in the castle. After all, I killed my predecessor, and everyone knows that it was through this action that I secured my current position. The children _loved_ Dumbledore. Their parents hate us and our cause and the little fools have been listening to them, absorbing every single one of their complaints….But time is on our side. Soon, the students will no longer remember the previous headmaster. For them, the only Hogwarts will be _our_ Hogwarts.

"Do you know what children are, Alecto? They have rightly been called _'little sponges'_. Hurting them only causes them to fear and hate us more. _But_…if we appear legitimate, they will take our word as gospel. They love routine…normality. And they also love authority. Children have a need for explanation, for direction. If you behave as knowledgeable professors rather than as my enforcers, by next year, they'll believe everything you say. They'll be quoting you.

"If you do this, you'll soon provide the Dark Lord with a new generation of dedicated followers, who will have received an education comparable to our own, which means that they'll have knowledge enough to be of some use to the Dark Lord. If we continue as we have begun, we'll only graduate a bunch of sniveling, ignorant brats terrified of the Dark Arts and with a permanent twitch from your too liberal use of the Cruciatus Curse. Or worse, we'll have a rebellion on our hands that might somehow make it into the papers…."

The two tilted their heads and blinked, trying to assimilate what he had just told them. Severus knew that he had hooked them and decided to infuse a bit more camaraderie into his words. He rose and added, "Think carefully about what I've told you, my friends. It may give a certain satisfaction to see the miserable little imps twitching in pain after they've disrespected you, but I'm convinced that this is not an effective long-term strategy."

He ushered his 'guests' to the door and held it open for them, continuing to speak, "I think we have all earned a break, and mercifully, we have a child-free holiday ahead of us to enjoy. Good evening to you both!"

The brother and sister seemed remarkably docile by the end of Severus' spiel. Once again, Marian found herself in awe of his silver tongue. It wasn't so much the words he used as his manner of speaking, which was rich and hypnotic. As the two Death Eaters left, chorusing 'Good evening!' Alecto even referred to Snape as 'headmaster'. Marian had a very clear view of her from her perch on the corner of the windowsill and noted that the dreadful woman had a decidedly starry-eyed look on her horsey face. If Marian hadn't already hated her, she certainly did now.

After the visitors left, Severus closed the door firmly behind them and paced over to his desk. He paused in front of it and placed his elegant hands on its surface, slightly resting his weight on them and bowing his head in exhaustion. To the woman that loved him, he made a poignant sight. Severus truly bore the weight of the world. She didn't want to disturb him, and would have preferred to continue to watch him, so great was the fascination he held for her, but she was very cold, and very weak. Marian had always been rather blasé about her health, but it slightly worried her that the pain, excruciating earlier, had completely vanished, to be replaced by a dangerous numbness.

So she pecked at the glass. The sound seemed surprisingly loud to her, but she supposed that her form's keen hearing was more to account for this than the actual force behind the blows. But they seemed to have been loud enough to gain the desired effect, because Severus' head snapped up, and his sharp eyes zeroed in on her at once.

With a wave of his hand, the window flew open and he approached, interest piqued. "What do you have for me, little one?" he murmured.

Instead of doing what a trained messenger bird would have done, sticking out the leg containing the missive until Severus deigned to remove it; Marian hopped into the room and landed on the desk. He raised his eyebrows at the snow that now sprinkled his documents, but refrained from commenting. Once Severus smoothly pulled the note née purse from the ankle tether, and began unrolling it, Marian acted. She hopped unsteadily to the floor and transformed back to her original shape.

Before she had time to blink, she felt a wand pressing against her throat and heard Severus snarl, "Do...not…move."

She froze, and felt him throw back her hood. Marian looked up into the eyes she loved so well, loved in the way a sailor loves the ocean, mesmerized in spite of the frequent emptiness, the menace and days where it seems more a flat, unreadable sheet of molten metal than a deep and glorious mystery. He blinked and lost his perfect composure. "_Marian_," he whispered. The word was a plea, a prayer, a reproach.


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23: Visitation

He lowered his wand and surveyed her with an unfathomable expression. As if under a spell, Marian stood still and waited for a sign from him. Eventually, in brittle, dismissive tones that did little to hide his hurt, Severus said, "If you've come to assassinate me, you'd better get on with it, before I change my mind and decide to defend my miserable life."

"Can we be overheard?" she asked gently, ignoring his rather odd greeting.

"No. What do you have to say to me, the Dark Lord's most _trusted_ lieutenant?" he sneered.

"Severus," she murmured reproachfully, "You forget that I know you. Whatever the world thinks of you, whatever part you're playing, I will always be for _you_….So you are the Dark Lord's '_lieutenant_'. Very well," and then she dropped her voice beguilingly, "But to me you are general…_emperor_…."

But instead of mollifying Severus, her words seemed to upset him. He had begun pacing agitatedly in front of her while she was talking, and when she trailed off, he rounded on her.

"Marian, don't say such things! Don't you know what I've _done_? What I _am_? _How_ can you still care? ...So if you're here for any other reason, don't try to deceive me! Do as you will. I will not hinder you! If you require my life, take it. If you want anything in this office or in the school, it's yours. But don't try to take me for a fool!" he exploded, and grasped her by both arms.

Marian couldn't suppress the scream that burst from her throat, and Severus leapt back startled, with a stricken look on his face. He felt wetness and looked down at his hand, which had gripped her black sleeve. He exclaimed in horror when he saw that his hand was slick with a coating of bright arterial blood. Through the haze of pain, Marian looked up at him with an apologetic expression on her face. There were tears of agony in her eyes, and she cradled her maimed arm against her body. At once he approached her, concerned and purposeful. "You should have told me at once that you were injured. Didn't you think I might want to know?" he muttered in a strangled voice.

Her sleeves were made of several layers of fabric, and the wounds were gummed up with tissue paper-like stuff as well as a coarser cloth. Severus had always been an incisive man, who preferred to follow the straightest, most logical course, no matter how many toes he stepped on in the process. He had no intention of wasting time trying to painstakingly remove the material from the wound when she had obviously lost a great quantity of blood already. He was ashamed that he hadn't noticed her unnatural pallor, or the dark patch of carpet where the blood had been draining down from her hand.

And so he waved his wand and muttered a spell. This particular spell dissolved all of the clothing a person was wearing, and Severus had never expected it to have a legitimate use. He had learned it as a child as a weapon to use against the Marauders. As soon as Marian began to see pinpricks of skin revealed by her disintegrating dress, she exclaimed, "Severus!" in a scandalized voice. But he was a step ahead of her, and had summoned a towel from his bathroom and was in the process of enlarging it. Before the black stuff of her dress vanished to the point where her modesty was at risk, Severus had taken the green towel and deftly wound it underneath her arms and around her body two, three times, and tucked it in.

Marian watched as he began casting diagnostic spells, and, when he was convinced that only her left arm was injured, knelt and began healing the wound. It looked quite a bit worse than Marian had imagined. When she had transformed, the gash had stretched and torn open, revealing muscles and the jagged white of broken bones, two little prongs of which protruded above the flap of skin. It sickened her and she looked away, focusing on Severus as he bent over the injury in concentration. After a moment, he reached out his hand, and without looking, seamlessly caught a vial of potion that he had silently Accioed. He uncorked it and handed it to her, murmuring, "Pain-Relief Potion."

"Thank you," she answered, in real gratitude. She was still involuntarily trembling from the sharp pain caused by him gripping her arm a few minutes before. Marian sat in his desk chair, which he had pushed back a little in order to have a clear space in which to kneel. The potion took effect quickly, relaxing her almost at once. As he worked, he glanced up to check on her and murmured, "Careful. Don't you American prisoners of war have some sort of rule about 'accepting special favors from the enemy'?"

"_Am_ I your prisoner, Severus?" she asked luxuriously, "Because that's a pretty big step for me. I've never been anyone's captive before. If I'm going to consent to that, then I think I should get to make a few stipulations."

His eyebrows shot up, and he transfigured a bucket and rag, and filled the bucket with water from his wand. He began gently sponging off the dried blood and answered lazily, "That's not how it usually works, but it seems fair enough."

Marian smiled. She could always count on him to get into the spirit of the game. Their minds were very much alike in some ways, and she was able to relate to him in a way that no one else could. No one would believe her if she said that Severus Snape had a playful side—one that manifested itself at the oddest times.

"Well," she continued with a smirk, although the anemia was telling on her, making her very tired and weak, and a little dizzy, "then I require that I serve my captivity with you, and no one else."

"Anything else, Your Majesty?" he asked sardonically, as he cautiously flexed her arm and watched as she winced. While she observed, he began wrapping it up adeptly.

"Well," she said, tilting her head in thought, "I suppose I_ would_ like a hot bath. I feel so dirty. I think the blood was blowing into my hair—I mean feathers-while I was flying."

"Alright, but we'll have to be very careful. I will give you a blood-replenisher, but that will not be enough to restore your strength," he answered.

After a few moments of silence, in which he healed her and she watched him, Marian spoke up playfully, "Please fix it properly, Severus. After all, I'm left-handed."

"There's not a thing wrong with your hand. The injury is quite a bit higher up your arm," he answered drily, sending her a glance that was meant to be long-suffering, but Marian could sense the subtle humor behind it.

Satisfied, she nodded, and silently admired the man in front of her. She noticed that his forehead wasn't too high or too low. His hair, although lank and a bit stringy, didn't put her off at all. Her uninjured hand itched to stroke it. She wondered if he would mind. Suddenly, she realized that he was speaking again.

"I assume that you disregarded my warning not to go to the Weasley wedding….It's very fitting that you're a sparrowhawk," he said drily, "I hear they're among the most difficult birds to train."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Marian answered, and finally gave in to her urge to begin lightly stroking his hair. He froze mid-way through the wrapping process, but when she continued to card her fingers delicately through the dark strands, he slowly resumed what he was doing, not daring to look at her. He didn't want her to see his desperation, how starved he was for affection, for physical comfort. She added softly, "I had hoped that the warning was from you…that you still thought of me. But you understand why I had to go to the wedding. And don't worry, I wasn't seen by any Death Eaters."

"Perhaps not," he murmured, before unexpectedly confessing, "You know, I never expected to see you tonight. The months passed and there was no word, no sign….I thought-" he broke off, ashamed of his weakness.

Severus kept wrapping the bandage, although his sure fingers halted more than usual. Marian continued to caress his hair, his forehead, his shoulder, not needing words to show her love. The more she touched him, the more she wanted to—and the more _of_ him she wanted to touch. He was all-in-all to her.

Marian slowly began to explain, "I heard of the security here and didn't dare write. I've been longing to come, but I didn't want to draw suspicion down on you. I had heard that the Dark Lord had stationed Death Eaters here, and I suspected a repeat of last summer, when that horrible Wormtail was quartered with you, to keep an eye on you. I wouldn't even have taken the chance tonight if I didn't have valuable information for you….Oh Severus! There are so many things we need to cover, but my mind is so fuzzy right now. I'm not sure where to begin."

"Shhh….We can discuss whatever you like tomorrow. Tonight you will sleep here….I'll look after you," he said with finality.

"As you say…," she murmured with half-closed lids, adding, "But just because I'm not giving you information, let's not stop talking. You can't imagine how much I've missed your voice. Now tell me, were you surprised when that bird turned into me?"

There was a flicker of amusement in his eyes for the first time in months and he answered her in lightly mocking tones, "It _was_ unexpected. I would have thought you would make a grand entrance, sweeping into the castle like you did the day you put Umbridge in her place. I never imagined that that unhappy, bedraggled little ball of feathers dripping all over my parchments could be a princess in disguise."

"I'll bet you say that to all the girls," she smirked, gently tugging on one of his locks, adding, "And there's nothing wrong with my Animagus form. I was a bit of a mess today, but I've looked at myself in the mirror before as a bird, and let me tell you, I'm really quite something. The color, quality, and quantity of my feathers are unrivaled by those of other birds I've flown past—and not just the other hawks either."

A hint of a smile tugged at his lips—an actual smile. Pleased, Marian continued, "Besides, you can't deny that my act had subtlety. Who would expect an ordinary-looking little message-bearing bird to change suddenly into a witch? I learned to become an Animagus as an adult, and I wasn't in a class or anything, which was a great excuse never to register myself. In fact, you're the only one that knows. Do _you_ ever transform?"

He began crafting a sling for her arm and answered gravely, "Transfiguration was always my most difficult subject. I knew that the Marauders all became Animagi, but I never achieved transformation, which is ironic, considering how much a different shape appealed me, as I never wanted to be who I was."

"Severus…" she murmured, resting her hand on his shoulder, near his collar.

He brushed off her sympathy, musing, "I wonder what my form would have been, had I succeeded."

Had Marian been a little less under the weather, she wouldn't have blurted out what she said next. "Perhaps it's a good thing that you aren't an Animagus, considering that your form would eat my form," she responded flippantly.

Marian had sorted out the mystery of her altered Patronus months before, and had examined it in detail. She was no fool, and realized that since its appearance had changed from her Animagus sparrowhawk to something else, that this new shape must be Severus' Animagus, because she loved him to distraction, and only a soul-binding, all-powerful passion would be enough to change one's Patronus. People in love generally kept their own form. Only those that loved selflessly and placed another's needs before their own would exhibit a change. This documented phenomenon had caused many lovers suddenly to 'forget' how to cast a Patronus, in the interest of preserving the peace.

But Severus paused from tending to her arm and looked up at her, hurt in his eyes. "There's no certainty of that. Why do you think I would turn into a creature that would want to eat you? Perhaps I would become a bird, just like you," he disputed.

"But you _don't_. Your Animagus is a leopard," she remarked.

He eyed her in surprise and murmured, "A _leopard_. My, what a vivid imagination. Over the years, many people have speculated about my form. I've heard that I must be a snake...or perhaps a spider...although _'bat'_ is the perennial favorite," he returned, and his ironic tone did little to camouflage his bitterness.

"They were all fools," she said dismissively, before eying him intently and adding firmly, "As a famous big-game hunter said, a leopard is 'the most effective and successful mammal predator in the world' and 'it has more cunning and courage than any other animal'. You _are _a leopard, Severus. When you transform, your coat is black and sleek, your rosettes barely visible….Even in animal form, you are rare and remarkable, graceful beyond compare….You keep your clever dark eyes."

She couldn't keep a trace of fondness from her voice as she said this last. Severus noticed.

"You seem very certain," he mused.

"Yes," she said, a bit shyly, looking down at him through her lashes. She didn't know how to explain herself, so she added, "Besides, you couldn't be a sparrowhawk like me. The males are smaller than the females, and I can't imagine your alter-ego as smaller and weaker than mine."

After a moment, Severus murmured ardently, "But no matter what shape I wore, I would never hurt you."

Marian smiled softly in answer. "I know. Nor I you," she whispered.

Severus gazed at her for a moment, and she had the feeling that there was more he intended to say, before he forced his attention away from her face. He summoned a vial and uncapped it, handing it to her. She took a sniff and recognized the foul, tell-tale odor of blood-replenisher. She hesitated for half a beat and he tilted his head in question. "Just a little déjà vu. I hate the role of damsel in distress. Hopefully this will be the last time you'll have to look after me," she murmured shamefacedly.

"It will be, if this is the last time you ever injure yourself or fall ill," he answered ironically. Marian smiled at him, liking his implication, and drank down the potion, making a face. Severus finally finished wrapping and rose fluidly to his feet after water-proofing the bandages. "We'll take them off tomorrow," he added, reaching for her right hand to help her rise.

"Wait a moment. The message that was tied to my foot—it's really my transfigured bag," Marian said, reaching towards it.

With a flick of his wand, the small leather pouch rested in front of her once again. Severus picked it up, and then reached for Marian a second time. To her embarrassment, once she stood on her feet, she began to lurch drunkenly about, reeling and staggering dizzily. A moment later, Severus had swept her up into his arms and was carrying her through his bedroom and into the bath. The tub was glorious and ornate, equipped with nearly a hundred taps. But she noticed that when he waved his wand and the basin began filling, only normal hot water poured into the tub. He used none of the perfumed or bubbly options. The room was a vast expanse of white marble, with lots of lovely violet veining. Marian suspected that the color choice had been Dumbledore's. She didn't think it was to Severus' taste, but for whatever reason, he had let it be. The room was fairly bright, lit with sconces on either side of the large mirror overlooking the sink. Marian noticed that the mirror was an ordinary Muggle one.

The tub had steps leading down into it and was shaped a bit like a lemon, round with two alcoves on opposite ends that looked like seats, where one might lean back and relax without worrying about floating freely. As she looked up, she saw that the marble slabs lined the walls as well and that there were three shower heads—when even one would be an oddity in a wizard's house. The wizarding world seemed very much pro-bath, anti-shower, from what she had been able to tell.

She suddenly realized that he had stopped walking. Severus gently lowered her to her feet, still supporting most of her weight. Marian felt unsure of herself. She wondered how she was going to get into the tub without help. He seemed to sense her discomfiture and waved his wand at the water, turning it opaque. Now the tub looked like a great lavender basin filled with an opalescent liquid. The spigots sprayed rainbows wherever flowing water collided with the water already in the pool.

"It's beautiful," she murmured.

"I'm going to have to help you," he said decisively, "I will close my eyes and look away. Take my hand to walk down the steps."

She nodded, pleased that he was being professional about the whole thing, because she was blushing like a schoolgirl. It never even occurred to her that he would break his word, so when he closed his eyes, she dropped the voluminous towel and took the four wobbly steps down into the churning water. Once she eased herself back into the alcove, and the shining pearly water reached above breast-level, she called, "You can look now!"

Now their positions were reversed, and Severus was the one ill-at-ease. He seemed reluctant to leave, but hesitant to stay. She solved his dilemma for him by saying, "Would you mind Accioing my night things and toiletry kit from the pouch?"

"Had plans to spend the night?" he asked in amusement.

Marian blushed. "I always keep enough supplies with me for every emergency," she justified, trying to regain her dignity.

The next moment, it was Severus' turn to flush as he found a lovely, white, diaphanous nightgown in his hand and a pair of delicate lace panties. He quickly set them down on the sink, trying to maintain an unconcerned look. He stayed in the room, but turned slightly away, glancing anywhere but at the lovely witch bathing in the milky water. Eventually, he noticed her struggling to wash her masses of hair and intervened, taking the bottle from her hand with a meaningful look. Marian turned and looked over her shoulder shyly at him for a moment, but finally leaned back and let him lather up her pile of hair and massage her scalp with his long, expert fingers. He was very gentle when he rinsed her, blocking the water from falling into her eyes with his hand. He finally lifted the long train of clean, fragrant hair, and squeezed out the water.

"I will look away and give you my hand so that you can climb out, and then I'll hold out a towel for you to wrap yourself in. You can sit down on the bed in the next room to change into your clean things," he said authoritatively, and as an afterthought, dried her long hair with a flick of his wand.

She was feeling very languid from the blood loss and the bath, especially the heavenly head massage, and so she obeyed him without question, although she had a lot of trouble to rise and stagger gracelessly out of the water and into the waiting towel. She had barely wrapped it around herself when Severus once again effortlessly swept her up in his arms and brought her into the bedroom, depositing her on the edge of the bed and leaving her bag and change of clothes in a pile beside her.

Once out of the steam-filled bathroom, Marian realized that the bedroom was icy cold, with unlit logs in the grate. A miserable chill began to seep into her bones and she felt herself breaking out in gooseflesh. When Severus noticed her teeth begin to chatter, he muttered a terse apology and narrowed his eyes at his oversight. _Of course she would be cold_, he berated himself. He was the only one that ever entered this room and he never lit a fire for himself. As a child, his father had never turned on the heat in the wintertime. When Severus had complained of being cold, his Muggle father had sneered at him, maintaining that the cold makes one strong and that only weak people need to huddle together in front of a fire for warmth like a litter of puppies. And then he would start talking about Muggle warriors and athletes—which would inevitably lead to how much his son disappointed him, with his focus on books and magic tricks.

That had been the story for Severus' entire childhood. At Hogwarts, as a student, he had never joined the others around the fireplace in the common room. He had always been unwelcome at the hearth, the heart of the room's merriment and camaraderie, and he had grown up to be a man of the shadows, the one that haunted the remotest, shadiest corners of a room. As a professor, he had been relegated to the Dungeons—to the cold, dank, dark. And if he had gotten used to the permanent discomfort—well, that wasn't at all the same as enjoying it.

But now that he had the luxurious headmaster's quarters, he_ still_ never made a fire. Perhaps there was a part of him that unconsciously strove to prove himself—to prove that there was nothing weak about him. And another part, well, perhaps that other part of him felt that he deserved to suffer. Whatever unspoken rules he applied to him, however, were thrown out the window when it came to Marian. Severus naturally assumed that she was worthy of being warm and comfortable, and that it was his duty to keep her so.

He cast a Warming Charm on her, and then approached the fireplace with alacrity. Marian huddled in her large towel and watched his tall, graceful silhouette as he used his wand to start a beautiful, roaring fire. He eyed the flames meditatively for a few moments, his aquiline nose and high cheekbones casting strange shadows on the far wall. After a moment he roused himself and murmured, "I'll leave you alone for a few minutes so you can change. Don't worry about the fire. No one will enter that way. The first thing I did when I…inherited this room was to disconnect the Floo."

Marian murmured her assent, and he turned on his heel and went back to the office. She dressed in short order, but the effort exhausted her. She lay back on top of the covers to rest for a moment. The Warming Charm wore off after a few minutes, and although still very cold, she lacked the strength to pull back the bedclothes and crawl beneath them. She glanced about, taking in the two large windows, completely covered with heavy, Slytherin-green drapes. A sense of gloom pervaded, even though the space was richly furnished. Wall sconces hung at intervals, but they gave off little light. Marian thought that a fire was an absolute necessity in such a large, dark chamber.

The bed posts were decorated with well-orchestrated scrollwork, and the hangings matched the coverlet and the draperies over the windows. Silver tassels held back the curtains, and the bed linens were made of a shiny, silvery cloth. There were no tapestries or wall art of any kind. Marian was hardly surprised by the absence of paintings, as Severus had many secrets to keep and couldn't afford for even painted people to get wind of them.

Turning her head to the side, she noticed a large rug, created to look like a map, with green spots of land and silver-threaded seas covering the well-worn flagstones. Marian thought it was rather lovely. But very little of Severus' personality could be found. She suspected that the furniture had come with the room, and that the accents had been changed to his House colors, but otherwise left alone. The chamber—for it could hardly be known by a humble name like 'room', was very tidy, but there was an air of neglect about it, a coating of dust dulling all the wood surfaces. She supposed that he refused house elves entrance to these quarters, distrusting even them. There were no knickknacks on any of the furniture—not even a book on the night table. It was obvious that he spent very little time here. In spite of the expensive furnishings, Marian decided that it was a rather sad space.

When Severus materialized in the doorway a few minutes later, he paused so stare at her with a fathomless expression in his dark eyes. She felt a bit self-conscious. Even though her nightgown wasn't particularly revealing, it _was_ made of a rather gauzy fabric that clung to her curves and flowed off her in soft folds. Her arms were bare and the swell of her breasts could be plainly seen. He finally blinked, shaking himself out of his trance and realizing what she needed. Without a word, he approached and delicately lifted her, sweeping back the blankets and tucking her in. Marian found the sheets and coverlets to be rich and lovely, although she thought the mattress rather hard.

Propped up on the pillows, she produced a brush and began tiredly to work the tangles out of her hair. Intrigued, Severus watched her for a moment before asking, "Why don't you just go to sleep? You can comb your hair tomorrow."

"If you think it's messy now, wait until tomorrow after I've slept on it all night. I need to braid it," she murmured in exhaustion.

Her hair had always fascinated Severus. Its length, color, texture, aroma—everything about it was calculated to ensnare him. And so he pretended annoyance and snatched the brush away from her. He muttered an obscure spell that created a cushion of air. It was like the standard Cushioning Charm, but more heavy-duty, able to stand alone. He motioned for her to lean forward and she complied, able to rest against the soft, yielding pillow of air he had created. And then, still wearing his teaching robes, he sat behind her, but kept his booted feet off the bed. He began gently unwinding the tangles. Her hair really didn't have very many at all. His clever fingers and the comb had unraveled them in moments, but he continued to brush the shining mahogany surface much longer than necessary. He loved the beautiful hues revealed by the lamplight, and the warmth of her small soft body near his.

Severus knew how to make a basic braid, and soon separated her hair into three sections, handling each piece as though it were a bolt of priceless silk. When he had finished weaving it into one thick satin rope, he secured it with the tie that had been wrapped around the base of the hairbrush and sat back to admire his handiwork. He eyed it critically, noting that when Marian did her own hair, somehow the braid started far higher up on her head and looked much better than his, which started just above the neck. He murmured something about it to Marian, who was still conscious, in spite of feeling completely drained. But the experience of having Severus Snape dress her hair was not something that happened to her every day, and she struggled to stay awake for it, marveling at this clever, powerful man's tenderness and devotion to the simple task.

Marian felt her hair with her good hand and replied sleepily, "You must have made an English braid—which is very fitting. I sometimes make French braids, or Dutch braids. They start at the top of the head, which is why it looks different to you tonight."

With his hand, he canceled the cushioning spell and she melted backwards into his arms. He gently laid her down, lingering nearby as he tucked the coverlet in around her and said gruffly, "Well, now that your interminable ablutions are over, maybe you'll be able to get some much-needed rest."

"Thank you, Severus," she murmured, and he shivered. Lying back in his bed, the look she was giving him from under her dark, stunning lashes was simply sinful. Unable to resist her when she was like this, he turned away abruptly.

Her eyes never left Severus as he walked over to a wardrobe of very dark wood and opened it, rummaging around inside for a few moments before finally removing something made of gray material. He vanished into the bathroom, and a few minutes later, approached her again in the lamp-lit bedroom. His eyes unconsciously glanced at the vast open space beside her in the bed, but he had very scrupulous notions of gentility. He would rather sleep on a bed of nails than insinuate himself next to Marian if it might make her uncomfortable. So he looked down at her and said impassively, "Get some sleep. If you need me, I'll be-"

"Right here, in bed next to me," she said decisively.

Marian had never seen Severus in anything other than his billowing, black, high-collared robes, but he had emerged from the lavatory in a gray nightshirt that showed his entire throat and a hint of collarbone. She also saw his pale, toned calves with a light sprinkle of dark hair, and his beautiful, fine-boned feet. The nightshirt was very conservative-looking, long-sleeved with cuffs and made of a thick, canvas-like fabric, with a chest pocket and a flat collar that framed the V-neck. His usual clothing had always been so impenetrable that Marian trembled with desire to see even _that_ much bare skin. His trim physique was much more apparent, and he just looked so much more…touchable than he did in his black robes.

He stood there while she appraised him, in an agony of self-doubt. He feared her disgust, but when he looked at her expression, his expectation didn't really seem to match up with what he saw. Her eyes were bright and slightly hooded, and her lips parted tantalizingly. Even if his mind second-guessed her reaction to him, his body interpreted it correctly. When he felt the first stirrings of arousal in response to her glances, he abruptly extinguished the lights.

Severus vacillated at her suggestion, but finally replied, "No, Marian, really. You'll be more comfortable here by yourself, but I'll come to check on you periodically."

"Come to bed, Severus," she murmured ardently, noticing his hesitation. Marian didn't know why she was so bold tonight. She supposed that she had missed him so much and been so worried about him that her posturing and pride no longer seemed important. She loved him-period. He had never declared his feelings, and she had no idea of the extent of them, but she decided to take a risk. If he chose to reject her, that was his prerogative.

"That's hardly appropriate, Marian," he responded primly.

"You're right about that, professor," she grinned irrepressibly, patting the space next to her. With a long-suffering sigh, he slid in on the other side, careful to keep what he considered to be a proper distance away from her.

"You know," he murmured silkily, "It's _'headmaster'_ now."

"If you want me to start calling you 'Master' in bed, I guess I could get on board with that, although that's definitely a game-changer, Severus," she smirked.

She heard his dark chuckle from the other side of the bed and smiled to herself. Severus murmured, "You're certainly a saucy little minx."

Her mood had changed. The burning she had felt for him a moment before had mellowed with the return of the dark, and now she felt close to sleep, but the emotion between them was a palpable thing. She wanted to be close to him, so she tentatively reached over and contacted his shoulder, groping down the length of his arm until she found his hand. Then she gently grasped it, her fingertips grazing over his palm in a feather-light stroke.

The last thing she expected was for him to shoot up in bed in response to her touch and relight the torches, exclaiming, "Your hands are freezing! Are all of your extremities this cold?"

Without waiting for an answer, he snatched the covers back and took one of her icy white feet into his hand. Swearing to himself, he summoned a pair of socks and murmured a spell on them, while she looked on with wide eyes. He slid the first stocking easily onto her foot, and she sighed with delight. Her feet had felt like blocks of stone before, but the socks were heated, and wrapped her feet and calves in a delicious cocoon of warmth.

"Oh Severus, you wonderful man," she groaned.

He looked strangely satisfied in that moment before turning off the lights. She still craved his closeness, and reached towards him, but felt only empty space beside her and knew that Severus must have moved over to the far side of the bed, keeping an almost formal distance between them. She wasn't sure, but sensed that he had his back to her. She needed him, but refused to follow and drive the poor man off the side of the bed. Sleep swiftly enveloped her, with her hand still slightly stretched in his direction.

Something woke her, a movement or a noise, and she couldn't tell if she had been sleeping for minutes or hours. There were no traces of light coming in around the curtains, so she suspected that it was still night, unless they had been specifically charmed to keep light out, which was unlikely, considering that Severus was always overworked and forced to rise with the dawn. He had probably never slept in since becoming headmaster.

Marian sat up, feeling better than before she had gone to sleep, and when she felt movement again, conjured a faint light and peered across the bed. She saw Severus moving restlessly, and when she looked closely at his face, noticed that his eyes were moving rapidly behind the lids. He wore an expression of anguish, and a few tears had escaped and lay shining on his wan, hollowed cheeks. Marian felt stabbed to the heart when she saw the tears. It seemed unthinkable to her that a man so noble, so intelligent should bear the burdens of guilt and loneliness in addition to his terrible responsibilities. Leaving the light on, Marian scooted towards him, and began gently stroking his hair and murmuring words of love to him—things she would never dare say in the light of day. She pressed against his back, spooning him, and draped her bandaged arm over his waist.

"Wake up, my love. Darling, it's alright. It was just a dream," she whispered these and other words of comfort as she cradled him in her arms, providing a protective, soothing warmth against his back. After a moment he stilled, and Marian knew he was awake, but she didn't leave off trying to reassure him in his distress, although she toned down the endearments, trying not to be so blatantly enamored with him. For a moment, his muscles seemed to relax, and then she heard him give a faint, shuddering sigh, but he said nothing, and kept his face turned away from her.

So she continued to hold him close to her body, and slightly nuzzled the back of his neck with her cheek. When she had almost drifted back to sleep, she heard him confess in a hoarse whisper, "I _did_ kill him, you know."

"Yes, I know," Marian whispered back.

At those words, Severus abruptly made a move to pull away, but left off when he felt her cling to him. "What do you _mean_, 'you know'? And if you mean that you know I'm a murderer, then _what_ are you doing here? _Why_ are you being kind to me? I wanted answers before, but once I saw that you were injured, I grew distracted," he poured out, keeping his body rigid, trying not to melt into her arms, which was a difficult matter because she felt so good, so welcoming. He had not allowed anyone to touch him since…her, over six months before.

"Severus, I said 'I know' because I do. I know the whole situation, and I'll explain about that in detail tomorrow….The reason I'm here is that I _don't_ think that you're a murderer. I have behind-the-scenes information, but even if I didn't, I know your character. I think you're the best, worthiest, most honorable man I've ever met….I trust you still."

"My _character_," he sneered.

"Yes. You protect people you dislike, always put yourself last and do more than anybody else. If that's not character, then I don't know what is," she replied fervidly.

He was silent for a time, and she sensed a deep sadness about him. When he finally spoke again, there was no trace of argument, only weariness, "Marian, what do you want from me?"

Surprised by the question, she replied slowly, "That is a very loaded question. It implies that I mean to use you in some way….I wish that you believed in me just a little."

He turned on his side to face her, so she scooted back towards the middle of the bed, leaving a space between them. Severus propped himself up on his elbow, and in the dim halo of light that Marian had conjured between the heavy bed hangings, he seemed all sharp angles and dark, haunted eyes. In a low, forceful voice that made her hair stand on end, he urged, "I believed in you before—but now I have given you a reason to hate me! The rest of the world despises me. I can't understand why you don't….Marian, I'm not a fool. I know how easy it would be for you to deceive me. You're a clever woman, and you must know that I have a weakness where you're concerned. You're the only person I care about that still lives. If you hate me—as you should, then don't conceal it! I will _still_ assist you and you will go home with whatever you came for….You see my vulnerability. I cannot bear your tenderness if it's false…" he trailed off.

Marian listened to the unhappy spy with compassion, and hardly knew what to answer, but she finally murmured, "Severus, you impossibly suspicious man! How can you still doubt me after all that we've been through together? But I want to put your mind at rest….I have two reasons for remaining in Britain. Of course, one is to help defeat the Dark Lord. I keep in contact with members of the Order of the Phoenix, but I'm not a secret member anymore. Now I'm a free agent. It had to be that way, because, to be honest, I'm even less likely to follow Mad-Eye's orders than I was Dumbledore's.

"Do you remember when we first met, and you told me that Dumbledore had given me leeway to choose my own task? Well, I did…and that brings me to my _second_ reason….Since I first met you, I admired your quality and abilities. I watched as you carried enormous burdens so well that more were always being added. You were the most overworked, underappreciated member of the Order of the Phoenix, but also the one with the greatest promise….I could see that events were leading towards your death or permanent imprisonment, and I couldn't bear it….So I have been gathering information and developing spells in an effort to be useful to you….Protecting you has become more important to me than even the Dark Lord's defeat—please try not to condemn me for that ….But even if you never care to see me again once all this is over, I want you to survive, to be safe, happy…. _That_ is what I want from you—for you, Severus."

Severus' face had changed while she spoke, and she saw all sorts of emotions churning in his usually cool black eyes. She saw tenderness and perhaps…gratitude, but those sentiments were quickly chased away by cynicism. "Marian," he said touchily, "I cannot understand why you have decided to turn me into your _pet project_. I do not lack self-awareness, and know only too well how flawed is the picture that you've painted of me with your extravagant praise. You pity me for my isolation and because a certain amount of suffering comes with my position. But you-and _only_ you-are overlooking two critical facts.

"First of all, there are very good reasons why I'm alone. I was not a pleasant child; I am not a pleasant man; and it is inevitable that I will come to a less than pleasant end—probably in the near future, and I would much prefer if you were not around to see it. Secondly, if I suffer, it is because I deserve it. I could have made a different choice. But being unpleasant is not the same as being weak, which I would have to be in order to accept your charity. Do you understand?

"By trying to salvage me, you're getting a bad bargain. I'm no longer really even a spy. I am the face of the Dark Lord at Hogwarts—just as twisted and ugly a face as befits a representative of _him_."

Severus was working himself up, growing more and more agitated and frustrated over his position. He was boiling over with angry words, which was really no surprise to Marian, considering that this was the first opportunity he had had to vent after months of being forced to bottle up his anguish. He continued in his low, strident tones that somehow always commanded attention, "I am cut off from both sides. The Dark Lord has successfully neutralized me. Now it is a rarity to gain access to any information. I am probably the least informed person in the wizarding world, barricaded here in the castle for my 'safety'. Everything I hear has been perverted or invented by the _Daily Prophet_….My life consists of trying—usually unsuccessfully-to protect the students from my compatriots…these _sadists_. Even_ I_ realize that I am hardly useful, and I am certainly not worthy of any pains you are taking to prolong my farce of an exist-"

By now Severus was thoroughly upset, and seemed as though he might continue for some time, but Marian forestalled him by unexpectedly guiding his face down to hers, and bestowing a warm, gentle kiss on his parted lips, which she surprised mid-word. She didn't even second-guess herself; it just felt like the natural thing to do. He looked so adorable with his shocked expression and slightly pursed lips that she nearly dove back in for a real kiss, unlike the merely convivial one from a moment before.

"Your concerns are valid—but not where I'm concerned! Oh Severus, I couldn't give a bloody damn about charity," she said affectionately, grinning up at him, "If I did, then it would be much easier to donate all the treasure I won from the dragon's hoard to the world's widows, orphans, and misunderstood, fascinating spies. But I'm not a bleeding-heart. I'm a cold, calculating—and rather selfish-realist. And yet, for some reason I'm willing to make sacrifices for you….Do the math, Severus! I'm not trying to manipulate you—I don't want anything from you. I have my own money. I'm pretty clever myself, so I'm not trying to steal your work or ideas. I don't need information, because, like you said, you don't receive any these days. If I had wanted your life, I would have killed you while you were sleeping. And if I had wanted to take you as a prisoner to the Order, I could have made a Portkey and done just that! ...So that leaves only one explanation—_I care about you, and I actually meant all the things I said_. Not once have I ever met your equal. No one else has ever come close…."

Marian took a deep breath and continued, not wanting to say too much or too little, "I don't pity you or think of devoting time to you as _charity_. Far from it! I consider every minute I have to spend away from you wasted," she exclaimed, blushing over her words and glancing up at him, but Severus said nothing, merely looking at her with an intense, considering look in his black, black eyes.

And so she decided to push him just a little further, "You're the most compelling man I've ever met…and it's not just because of your cleverness. It's everything about you—you're exquisite….Help me take this bandage off. It's constricting me, and I'm sure the gash is healed by now," she murmured, momentarily changing the subject. Severus sat up in bed and leaned over her. He commenced unraveling his neat work while Marian looked on, noticing how worn-out he appeared in the dim light. Now that she was close to him, she could tell that his cheeks were a little more hollowed than before. The stress lines that he had possessed for as long as she'd known him seemed significantly enhanced. The tender skin around his eyes was slightly purplish, telling the tale of many miserable, sleepless nights.

"I believe that you mean what you say," he murmured in a slightly ironic tone that did nothing to hide his satisfaction at her words, "So now the only conclusion left for me to draw is that you're completely mad."

After a moment, she glanced up impishly and placed a hand over his warm, capable one. "And that puts you off, does it?" she asked playfully.

"On the contrary, I think it rather adds to your mystique," he answered drily.

She favored him with a dazzling smile and murmured roguishly, "You have no idea how much I've missed that silver tongue of yours...But let's get some sleep. You look exhausted, and I could use the rest myself."

He nodded, and they lay back down, facing each other once again. This time, he reached for _her_ hand. Marian didn't cancel the light, so they gazed at each other, as he softly caressed her fingers. For a few moments, he looked almost peaceful. She supposed he had needed reassurance that he wasn't alone, and she had given it to him. But he suddenly frowned, and she reached over and fondly smoothed out the crease in his brow. His troubled expression finally prompted her to acknowledge, "Something else is on your mind."

"I know it's a ridiculous thing to care about," he began, "when so many more important things are at stake, but I cringe when I think of the legacy I'll leave behind. After all," he said with a brittle laugh, "in all the centuries that this school has been open, _I_ am the only illegitimate headmaster-the puppet of a Dark Wizard. A weakling who murdered his predecessor, who just happened to be the greatest wizard Britain had seen in five hundred years….Marian, you can't know all of the horrible things that have been happening under my administration. _These Death Eaters are Crucioing the children_. I try to stop them, but I cannot be everywhere…

"And even more shamefully, one of my students was kidnapped two days ago by Death Eaters, right off the Hogwarts Express."

_"What?"_ Marian asked in horror.

"Luna Lovegood. Her father owns that paper, the _Quibbler_. They are holding her at Malfoy Manor to keep her father from writing anything 'subversive'….I had only one hope when the Dark Lord sent me to Hogwarts, and it was that I might be in a position to protect the students from the horrors of war. But I'm undermined at every turn," he confided tensely.

Marian had nothing to say to this, so she brought his hand up to her lips and placed a lingering kiss on it. After a moment, she said softly, "Go to sleep, my dear. Things will be better in the morning. Trust me."

And he did. Severus fell asleep, still holding her hand, and the dreams did not return. The morning light creeping around the drapes woke Marian briefly, and she found herself in a rather compromising position. She and Severus were completely wrapped around each other, legs entangled, with her face buried in the crook of his neck. His delicious masculine scent immediately elevated her heart rate, and she considered what to do. She was becoming aroused by his body, but was also tremendously comforted by him. So she decided to stay where she was and feign sleep, until the real thing should come again.

The way he felt against her was exquisite, as if he was made for her. Her embrace enabled her to admire the musculature of his back. His bare calf had slipped between hers, and the heat and delicious firmness of his chest against her own stimulated her body to such a degree that she had to bite her lip to stay silent. To be in the arms of Severus Snape—to feel the warmth and power of this resourceful, enigmatic wizard was a fantasy. She longed to wake up this way every day. He continued to sleep, his delicate, sooty lashes pleasantly softening his harsh features.

Marian refused to take her hand out of the fire, and bore the glorious torture. But in the midst of her euphoria, she felt a sudden premonition that she would lose him, and shivered with dread. She longed to hold him closer for reassurance, but was afraid of driving him away. If he woke up, she knew that their embrace must end. Being with him was a dream, but reality would return with his consciousness, and she hated the thought of him pulling away, leaving her desolate in order to return alone to his deadly responsibilities.

Suddenly, it seemed to her that something was slightly different about his breathing. It seemed a bit quicker than it had a moment before. Marian peered earnestly at his face, but her elusive love made no sign. And so she tried to breathe normally and not to move too much or hold him too tightly. Eventually, with her cheek pressed against his pulse, soothed by his steady heartbeat, Marian succumbed to slumber once again.


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24: Hope

She awoke again several hours later—alone. Marian rose from the bed and threw back the drapes, feeling refreshed, but slightly bereft. The afternoon sun was shining out over the snow, and she estimated that it was about one o'clock. Severus was nowhere to be found. She even poked her head into his office, but when she saw that it was empty, went into the bathroom to get ready for the day. She had several outfits in her bag—clothing for every occasion. She wanted to look her best for him, and so she opted for a dress that was too fancy for everyday wear, but she rationalized that it was perfectly acceptable for today-she was in a castle, after all. This gown was long and regal, ice blue, and spangled all over with silver thread. It had a tight bodice that displayed the tops of her smallish, rounded breasts seductively. She had been planning to wear it for New Years, but that was before Dumbledore's death, when everything had really started to change for the worse in the wizarding world.

She pinned up her hair in the front with a few clever twists, and left it hanging long and silky down the back. She had a hunch that Severus liked it down. And when she reentered the bedroom, there he stood waiting for her, leaning back against the bedpost with a slight smirk on his lips. He looked immaculate, impenetrable in his black robes and altogether different from the man whose bare legs had stroked against hers in the night. He had a masterful aura about him, and she could never quite forget how dangerous he was, even though he was surprisingly gentle with her. But Marian had long ago divided people into two categories: predator and prey. And Severus Snape was a tiger.

She tried to appear indifferent, but she burned for him even now. "You know," Marian said smilingly, trying to regain her composure and carrying her bag over to the nightstand, "I have the strangest feeling that you've been off eating a meal without me."

"True enough. But never fear, I'll send for the House Elves to bring something into my office….You know, I slept in until eleven o'clock—which is unheard of for me. It never would have been possible if all of the students hadn't gone home for the holidays….I decided that I ought to make it down for one meal today, just to make sure that everyone knew I wasn't to be bothered," he quickly replied in explanation. He jumped from topic to topic, and almost sounded nervous, but that was impossible, of course.

Without any warning at all, he suddenly transfigured the bed into a large sofa. Marian jumped back in surprise, and he levitated it in front of the fireplace, where he had kept a flame burning continuously since the night before.

"Good idea," she murmured, and asked, "Do you mean that _all_ of the children have gone home for Christmas?"

"Yes," he answered darkly, "And it's the first time in my twenty-four years here that it has ever happened. We usually have two or three dozen students that would prefer to stay here over the break…but now, no matter how dreadful things are for them at home, they would still rather be there than here."

Marian sighed, picked up her bag again and walked towards the couch. "You look lovely, by the way," he murmured, as he passed her on his way into the study. Marian flushed with pleasure.

He returned with a heaping platter of food. It was Christmas Eve, and so there was turkey and dressing, with cranberry sauce and sweet potato casserole, a slice of apple pie, a slice of cherry pie, and all sorts of breads and vegetables. Marian whistled. "Won't the House Elves talk?" she questioned, "I mean, you just ate—won't they find it odd that you want another gigantic meal this soon?"

"I didn't eat much downstairs. The company rather took away my appetite," he countered, frowning at some recollection.

"Well, have some of this. I have more than I can possibly eat," she said, sitting down on the sofa and placing the tray next to her on the cushion. After a moment's thought, Severus gracefully joined her and began buttering a roll, his dark eyes following every bite she took, and she noticed that he was careful not to eat any of the things he could tell she liked. "Severus, have some of this turkey—and this cranberry sauce. It's delicious….I do _know how to share_, you know," she murmured good-humoredly.

Teasingly, she cut a small bite of turkey, dipping it in gravy and waving it towards his mouth. But what she had meant in fun quickly got out of hand, as he met her gaze and slowly accepted the bite. Somehow, the deliberate, elegant way he took it from her fork, all the while looking her in the eye struck her as incredibly, undeniably erotic. Completely undone, Marian took a deep breath and tried to control her heart rate. Severus raised an eyebrow. She desperately tried to remember what she had come to Hogwarts to say, or for anything that wouldn't give away her overpowering need for him. Little did Marian know that she was more inscrutable than she imagined to Severus, who second-guessed the obvious, attributing her flustered state to anything other than his own desirability. But someone like Sirius never would have misunderstood had she behaved that way in front of _him._

Unable to eat anymore, she took a sip of water and said, "Severus, I have so many things to tell you, and I have already lost much of the day."

Casually banishing the tray, he leaned back and turned slightly towards her, giving her the benefit of his impressive focus.

"Do you remember how suspicious you were that day I reached into Dumbledore's beard?" she asked.

He grimaced at the mention of Dumbledore's name, but nodded.

"Well, you were right to be mistrustful. I wasn't pulling something out, like I told everyone. I was putting something in….I had made modifications to Muggle listening devices, which were tiny to begin with. I powered them by my magic, made them invisible and nearly undetectable. I placed one on the hilt of Harry Potter's wand, and another on the chain of Dumbledore's spectacles—and you were the only one savvy enough to catch me. Neither Harry nor Dumbledore has ever discovered them. I am able to hear what they hear, and eavesdrop on their conversations. They transmit to me here," she said, and pulled out a tiny, invisible sliver of metal that had been sitting inside her ear and motioned for Severus to touch it. He reached out, and nodded in appreciation when his fingers contacted the tiny thing.

Looking rather guilty, Marian said, "I know that you probably think it was a dishonorable thing to do, and that I violated their trust. But from the moment I saw Dumbledore's cursed hand, I knew that I would have to leave the Order at some point. Another leader wouldn't allow me the freedom I had had under Dumbledore….I wanted to be useful to you, and I knew that if Mad-Eye Moody took over, you would likely be estranged from the Order and unable to give or receive information. Even though _I_ might not still be a member, I have many friendships within the Order, and I had anticipated being in an ideal position to pass information, while shielding you….I realized that you were on a need-to-know basis while Dumbledore was alive, and for whatever reason, he didn't choose to make you his confidant."

A flash of hurt passed across his face, but Marian continued speaking in a rush, "But _I_ trust you-I always have. I feel I know your character so well that nothing can change the way I feel about you. And now that Dumbledore is not around to make decisions regarding war-related information, I will use my own discrimination….And I have decided to tell you everything—even the things that don't apply to you directly, because I trust your judgment, as well as your loyalty and ability."

Severus looked shocked by her confession, but she continued inexorably, "Back when I began work on the listening devices, I wanted to be in a position to tell you what you needed to know in case you became separated from the Order, but I had only ever been a marginal member, not included in the serious discussions. So I decided to find out what Dumbledore and Harry were up to, because they seemed to be the key players….And Severus, I don't regret it-I've found out some extraordinary things.

"_That's_ how I know for a certainty that your loyalty has always been to Dumbledore….I heard you that day when you tried to talk Dumbledore out of his plan although I didn't know what you were referring to at the time. It was only later….I know how much all of this is hurting you," she said unhappily.

Severus looked distinctly upset, but Marian took his lean, graceful hand earnestly in both of hers, and he held his peace. She continued avidly, "Severus, Dumbledore was cruel to ask you to do what you did. You _never_ should have been put in that position. I know you're feeling guilty, but you did the only thing you could to advance the cause and save the most lives….Logically, you _know_ this to be true, but I know that that kind of cold knowledge isn't enough to ease your soul.

"Double agents have such an ethically ambiguous position anyway, and it doesn't help that you're completely isolated here, hated and feared by the rest of the wizarding community….But the truth will come out—when the time is right. I believe that your life is worth saving, and I've brought tools and information that will help you."

"Marian, you're misguided," he muttered harshly, "Why try to prolong my life? It is only fitting that I die in this war. It's unseemly for me to survive my victims."

"Don't talk like that, Severus Snape!" she snapped at him, squeezing his hand spasmodically, "Your death would destroy me! Don't you understand? I'm selfish. Why do you think I'm going to such pains to preserve you? Because I couldn't bear a world without you in it."

She leapt to her feet and paced in front of the fire, starry skirts glittering brightly, dazzling his eyes. Severus didn't quite know what to make of her outburst, but he finally rose to his feet and approached her, gently taking her by the upper arms and bowing his head, unwilling to look her in the eye. "Marian, I don't wish to hurt you, but I know that Dumbledore has made no provision for my survival. I play both sides, and have many, many enemies…I have always known that I would die in the war. It's inevitable. I'm flattered by your care for my well-being, but I wish with all my soul that you had chosen some other task for yourself."

"So you're giving up? Does life hold so little charm for you?" she asked, voice cracking slightly.

He merely sighed, while guiding her back down to her seat, so she continued, "Severus, I'm aware of all your objections. I knew from the beginning that my task wouldn't be easy. But it's worth it—_you're_ worth it. You're the craftiest, most fearless wizard I've ever known. And with me in your corner, I think you have more than a fighting chance. You can have all the enemies in the world, but all you need is _one_ capable friend to see you through...and let me assure that I am more than capable."

"I'm sure that you are," he replied silkily.

Marian shocked Severus by suddenly slipping off the couch and kneeling at his feet, grasping his knees in the manner of an ancient petitioner. She looked up at him, desperation marking the face he loved so well, and begged, "_Please_ tell me that you'll try. Make your survival a priority….I'm an intense person—I'm like you in that way. I don't care about many people, but you made the list. I cannot lose you!"

"Enough, Marian!" he said finally, unable to bear more than a moment of looking down into her anguished, disappointed face, and feeling her small fists clinging to his knees even through the thickness of his garment. He reached for her hand and tenderly guided her back into her seat.

"You're a devious little creature," he muttered affectionately, "But you need never kneel to me again. I will agree to whatever you like….As far as my death goes, I am not eager for it. I have no desire to become the least-mourned casualty of the entire wizarding war. I only intended to inform you of the _likelihood_ of my death—to keep you from being disappointed when it happens. I will make every effort to survive—as long as my self-preservation doesn't interfere with my duty."

"I would expect nothing less," she said solemnly, and then she added, "In any case, there's a difference in going down fighting and in being murdered!"

Stunned, his head snapped up and he demanded, "What are you talking about?"

"I'm coming to that," Marian said highhandedly, "But let me tell you everything in order. It will make more sense that way."

"I have a question," he broke in suspiciously, "Have you placed one of these listening devices on _me_?"

She met his shrewd gaze with a sheepish grin and said, "No...I won't deny that I was tempted, but I would never violate your privacy like that. Your life is hardly your own anyway. I_ have_ heard some of your conversations with Dumbledore, but that was purely coincidental….The whole point of the invention was to get information that would help you—not to keep tabs on you."

He looked slightly mollified, but was in interrogation mode once again. With a hint of skepticism, he asked, "Are you telling me that it never occurred to you to use this tool against the enemy—that you created it _only_ to hear what our allies were saying?"

"Well," she answered reflectively, "I had been working on the bare bones of this project since about a year after joining the Order. My original intention was to have someone plant the equipment on Death Eaters, but then…I realized that it would be very dangerous for the person that was ordered to perform this task. I won't lie—I thought it would probably be you. I also realized that we already had a spy in the inner circle that provided the Order with accurate information, so it would be a superfluous risk. I didn't want to hand my invention over to Dumbledore….He already knew everything about everyone anyway and I didn't trust him where it concerned you. I thought he might even try to get you to attach one to the Dark Lord."

"That is probably not outside the realm of possibility," Severus muttered, but then he seemed a little ashamed and corrected himself, "But who's to say it wouldn't have worked? It would almost certainly have been a better use of my time than what I'm doing now."

"Don't condemn me for sacrificing the greater good in favor of my own…curiosity. Surely you see that I couldn't listen in on both our allies and our enemies. If I unveiled the invention to Dumbledore, there's no way I would have been able to sneak one onto him—literally right under his nose….You can judge by the information I've uncovered whether I made the right choice in keeping it a secret," Marian maintained, anxious to justify herself in his eyes.

Severus nodded, and after a moment asked curiously, "So, you're listening to Potter right now—while you and I are talking?"

"That's right. I can adjust the volume. Right now I have it very low. Nothing important is happening. He's camping out in the woods. His friend, Ron, got angry and left, so now Harry and Hermione are alone, and Harry has a broken wand—which slightly muffles the sound, since now he keeps the broken pieces stowed away instead of out in the open like he used to."

Severus swore, and with a considering glance at him, Marian continued, "I'm not sure what Dumbledore told you about the private lessons he was giving Harry…."

"Practically nothing," Severus answered bitterly, "he would never share the same secrets with me, even after I asked him….I think it's evident that I have been at least as trustworthy as _Potter_, but Dumbledore always preferred _him_."

"Considering your position, perhaps he feared to care too much for you," Marian comforted softly, "But I will tell you what they did together. They reviewed Pensieve memories that Dumbledore had collected from all sorts of people…of the Dark Lord-as a boy and through his whole development."

It was obvious that this was _not_ what he had been expecting to hear, as his eyebrows shot up and he leaned towards her unconsciously. She grew more animated and clarified, "I was able to hear these memories, and I know what they saw. We learned several things, but most importantly, why the Dark Lord never stayed dead."

"Tell me," he demanded, unaware that he was suddenly whispering.

"Severus, the Dark Lord has created_ horcruxes_—his goal was seven, the 'most powerfully magical number'," Marian answered, certain that Severus would understand the enormity of what she was telling him, even though most wizards would have no idea what a 'horcrux' was. It was an obscure piece of very dark magic, involving the splitting of the caster's soul through murder and the storage of the still-living fragments in other objects.

"Such a thing has never been done…. _Seven_? Are you certain?" he breathed, his voice resonant with dread.

"Yes. I know that Dumbledore didn't tell you about them, although he did make a cryptic remark to you on the subject. He said that when the Dark Lord begins keeping Nagini close that you must warn Harry that a part of Voldemort is lodged in him….And that to fully destroy him, he must sacrifice himself," Marian answered candidly.

Severus laughed bitterly and answered, "Yes….all this time…I thought I was so alone, but you've been hearing everything, haven't you? ...I watched over that boy for _years,_ only to see him turned into a sacrifice….I knew that Potter and the Dark Lord had some sort of special connection, but it never occurred to me that the child might be a horcrux."

Marian continued, "Dumbledore never came right out and said it, but based on what I have since heard about horcruxes, it seems he believed that Harry had been accidentally implanted with a portion of the Dark Lord's soul when his parents were killed. As far as I know, no one but Dumbledore has ever suspected this….I wonder if it is necessary for the boy to die in order for the horcrux to be destroyed."

"There is no telling," Snape responded, "Although I cannot imagine an outcome that would allow his survival….To my knowledge, no living creature has ever been turned into a horcrux."

"Well, then this will be one for the record books," Marian answered wryly, "because Dumbledore also thought that the snake, Nagini, was a horcrux….That must be what his warning was about—he suspected that the Dark Lord would eventually realize that his horcruxes were being destroyed, and that he would start keeping the snake close. Nagini will probably be left until last, because she will be the one most difficult to destroy—and the one most likely to alert the Dark Lord to what is happening….Severus, Harry Potter isn't just on the run from school. Dumbledore has sent him on a mission to hunt down and destroy these horcruxes, and has been preparing him for this for the last year."

"You must be joking," muttered Snape, "_Potter?_ Potter has been entrusted with this mission on which the fate of the entire wizarding world depends?"

Marian nodded, "Yes. Although the boy hasn't done badly so far—but more about that in its proper place….Anyway, the first horcrux was Tom Riddle's diary, which has been destroyed. The second was a cursed ring that had been handed down through the Dark Lord's line for years. I believe you've seen it. It has also been destroyed, but it bore the curse that ultimately took Dumbledore's life," she said.

"That's not quite right though—I believe I had that honor," he corrected, misery etched into every line of his face.

"Severus," she said, tilting his chin up with one slim forefinger, until his troubled black eyes locked with hers, "If Dumbledore hadn't already been slated to die, he might have come up with a very different plan. I don't blame you for what you did, and neither did he. You _must_ forgive yourself."

Severus ignored her plea and muttered, "_Why_ did he touch it? He should have known better. I thought it was odd at the time, but now that I know he recognized it as one of the Dark Lord's horcruxes, the accident makes no sense."

"I can explain that, but not yet," Marian said, with a self-deprecating smile, "I realize that I keep putting you off, but you _will_ have answers. I'm just trying to tell you in order so that I don't miss anything….As far as the other horcruxes go, one is a locket that had once belonged to Salazar Slytherin. Dumbledore had discovered its whereabouts and he and Harry had gone to retrieve it on the night the school was attacked."

"Were they successful?" he asked with interest.

Marian shook her head and responded wryly, "It's complicated. The truth is, they did retrieve a locket, but it was the wrong one."

"_How_ is that possible?" he broke in, running his long slender hand agitatedly through his hair.

"Well, Dumbledore died thinking that it was the genuine article. You see, he had discovered the location the same day he made an attempt on the locket. He and Harry traveled to a cave near a beach that the Dark Lord used to visit as a boy. After they passed across an underground lake filled with Inferi, they reached a small island in the middle. There was nothing on the island but the basin that contained the locket submerged in a potion. Unfortunately, the liquid had to be drunk in order for the locket to be attained. Dumbledore drank it, but it did something awful to him—it caused pain, made him very weak. It might have even been a fatal poison."

"It was—fatal, I mean," Severus broke in.

Marian eyed him intently.

"I invented it," he said bitterly, adding, "The Dark Lord _commissioned_ it. I never knew why. If Dumbledore had only brought me along instead of Potter, I could have shown him how to circum-"

"Stop it," Marian said soothingly, "That doesn't bear thinking about."

For a moment, guilt and regret left deep traces in his face, but then he nodded sharply, although his troubled expression remained.

Marian continued, "But anyway, Harry only found out later that the locket had no special power. It contained a note from someone that had defected from the Death Eaters. The mystery writer took the Horcrux away to destroy it, and signed the letter 'R.A.B.'" she said, but was interrupted when Severus suddenly broke in excitedly, "Regulus Black!"

"Yes—the children only just discovered that fact. But Regulus was killed in the cave the day he switched the lockets, and had commanded his elf, Kreature, to destroy the Horcrux, but he proved unable. His magic was no match for the Dark Lord's. And so he hoarded and guarded the necklace, until one day it was stolen out of the Black house by Mundungus. And Mundungus had it confiscated from him by none other than Umbridge, who began wearing it proudly around her neck," Marian said, pausing to unconsciously wet her lips.

Severus said cynically, "Evil calls to evil….I suppose that explains why the children broke into the Ministry. I thought it a rare bit of idiocy at the time, but it appears now that they had a better reason than I imagined."

"They had a reason, and they have finally acquired the horcrux. The only problem now is that they have no way to destroy it," Marian fretted, and then she asked spontaneously, "Wait a moment! How were the other ones dealt with?"

"A basilisk fang made short work of the diary, but I have no idea what made an end of the ring. As far as I could tell, there were no fangs lying around when I came upon…"

Severus paused for half a beat and then, "It was the Sword of Gryffindor," he said suddenly with certainty, although his remark had an impatient tone, as if he was annoyed at himself that he hadn't thought of it before. He abruptly rose and left the room, leaving Marian puzzled for a few moments before he returned, carrying an ancient sword, whose ruby-encrusted hilt dazzled her eyes in the firelight. The naked blade looked impossibly sharp, and she knew at once that it had not been crafted by the hand of man.

Severus held it up for her to peruse and answered, "Dumbledore entrusted this to me. I forged a copy and delivered it up to the Dark Lord. He supposes that the original resides in the LeStranges' vault….But I have it here, and was meant to deliver it to Potter."

This last he said as though it left a bad taste in his mouth, and then he added after a pause, "I have been waiting for the opportunity, but have been unable to locate his whereabouts, even though that swotty little Granger carries a portrait of one of the deceased headmasters with her in her bag. I gave Phineas Nigellus orders to report back to me, but unfortunately, he annoys the children and they rarely take his portrait out into the light, so he has been almost completely useless."

"But this is perfect!" Marian answered, "Now you see how right I was to trust you. You have never disappointed me yet."

His eyes glittered, but he turned aside, pretending to adjust the flames in the fireplace. Her eyes shone with love, and caressed his pale, spare form and serious face. He was out of his element and said nothing, so the moment passed. Marian began to speak again, "The presence of the horcrux was wearing down the children. The other two think that it pushed Ron to the breaking point, and that's why he defected."

"Perhaps that, or perhaps because he's a lazy little-" Severus said sourly, but Marian cut him off, exclaiming, "Severus Snape!" in mock severity. He had the grace to look abashed.

"How do you plan on delivering it to them?" Marian asked, getting them back on topic.

He tilted his head in thought. Finally, he glanced at her and asked, "Do you know where they are?"

Marian nodded. "I know the vicinity at least, but I wouldn't be able to find their exact camp with all of Hermione's protective charms."

"Hmmm…I think I have an idea. I am unable to leave the school, but what if I gave you the sword and you took and planted it somewhere—in a pool under the ice, or somewhere it's unlikely to be discovered...It is critical that they _win_ the sword. They must acquire it through bravery in order to harness its ancient magic. Potter cannot simply pick it up off the ground, which makes the set-up rather more delicate. You could guide them to the spot with your Patronus, or if they know it, you must somehow get word to me and I will guide them there with mine. Would they recognize yours?" he asked, watching her expectantly.

A blush stained her cheeks and she lowered her head, murmuring, "No, I don't believe they would."

He gazed at her intently for a moment, but she added nothing more. He asked solemnly, "Would you do this for me?"

Marian nodded gravely and took the sword from him, admiring its exquisite workmanship for a moment before slowly sheathing it in her bottomless bag. She smiled at him and said, "Well, Harry's quest suddenly looks much brighter."

"What is left?" Severus asked, getting back onto topic. He was not a man easily distracted. He summarized, "The diary—destroyed, the ring—destroyed, the locket—soon to be destroyed, Nagini—still at large, and there's a strong possibility that Potter is also a Horcrux. So are there two left, or three? Because the Dark Lord doesn't know about Potter."

"I believe—and Dumbledore also believed—that only two remain. The Dark Lord was preparing to create another one when his killing curse rebounded. I imagine that horcruxes require more than simply murder. There must be some amount of preparation involved…otherwise we would be looking at a great many more than seven of them," Marian responded thoughtfully.

"Presumably so," murmured Severus in his mellifluous voice that Marian never tired of hearing.

"In the memories I was able to listen in on, it became apparent that the Dark Lord had quite a preoccupation with the founders of Hogwarts and their…memorabilia. He was very proud of his tenuous connection to Salazar Slytherin. The locket and the ring can both be traced to him.

"The Dark Lord also managed to track down an old lady that owned a yellow teacup, which had formerly belonged to Helga Hufflepuff. He murdered and robbed the woman, and almost certainly turned the cup into a Horcrux, but it has not yet been located. Also, Dumbledore believed the final Horcrux to be something that belonged to Rowena Ravenclaw, because he said that the only thing of Godric Gryffindor's that has been preserved was this sword, which was never accessible to the Dark Lord," Marian told him.

Severus rose to his feet and began pacing. He muttered, partly to her and partly to himself, "The diary he entrusted to Lucius. The locket—in a cave that he visited multiple times as a child. Where did Dumbledore find the ring?"

"Under the foundation of the Dark Lord's mother's home. She was a witch. His father was a Muggle," Marian added.

He turned to her with incredulity. "The Dark Lord is a half-blood?" he asked.

"Yes….Like you, _'Half-blood Prince'_," she purred, and then acknowledged, "Not like me. I'm a quarter-blood."

He stopped pacing and looked at her with an endearing combination of embarrassment and gratification. "Is there anything you don't know?" he asked sardonically.

Marian smiled at him and answered drily, "Unfortunately, all too much. I would give a great deal to know where the other two Horcruxes could be found, for one thing."

He touched his thin lips with a slim forefinger and drawled, "I wonder about the LeStrange vault….There is all manner of treasure in there, and Bellatrix has always been one of the most devoted supporters of the Dark Lord. It is possible that he would entrust one to her—without telling her the significance, of course. And he _did_ loan his diary to Lucius….It would make sense."

He looked over at her for a response and saw her turned completely around, watching him over the back of the sofa. "It would make a _lot_ of sense," she confirmed, and then asked, "Do you mean a vault at Gringott's—that goblin-guarded bank?"

"Yes," Severus confirmed with a nod, and then added, "And more than just goblins guard the vaults there. There are dragons on the deeper levels, where the LeStrange vault would most likely be."

"Merlin!" she whistled, "Harry is in for a challenge. This is his task, after all—not ours. But I may be forced to point him in the right direction, if the thought doesn't occur to him soon. Hermione is very clever though. Perhaps they'll make do."

It was winter, and the sun set early. Now only darkness came through the window, and Severus walked over to the heavy brocade drapes and pulled them together by hand. Marian caught herself wishing that he was wearing something less dense than his robes, so that she could see the play of his back muscles, which she felt certain would be beautiful to behold.

"Would you like something to eat?" he asked attentively.

Marian's eyes snapped to his face and she murmured, "Perhaps something light. But mainly a drink."

She stood, stretching her arms over her head and causing her long dark hair to hang nearly to the back of her thighs. He watched her, with a carefully controlled motionlessness that made her think of a bird of prey. All at once he nodded sharply and exited the room, closing the door silently behind him. While he was gone, Marian took the opportunity to add to the seating arrangements. She had grown stiff and uncomfortable from sitting on the transfigured sofa all day. The temperature of the room had also dropped with the setting sun, and now the fire was in its most comforting stage. It was warm with delicious red embers. So she conjured a large carpet and placed it directly on the flagstones between the sofa and the hearth, and artfully added so many cushioning charms that it might as well have been a mattress. She transfigured nearly a dozen pillows from trivial things in her bag and used several of them to prop herself up on her side.

That was how he found her when he returned. She was reclining and staring meditatively into the fireplace. His sharp eyes noticed that her shoes had been placed carefully to the side of the couch, and that she held a small book in her hand. It looked like a children's story.

Severus carried a tray that contained an assortment of fruits, cheeses and canapés. There was also a sparkling decanter of currant wine and one goblet. She realized that to the house elves, this was a serving for one. He poured her a glass and handed it to her wordlessly, before conjuring a second chalice for himself. He gracefully bent and placed the tray on the carpet next to her, and then went to sit on the couch, a distance away.

Marian didn't realize what a tempting sight she presented, lying in her starry dress on the Persian carpet, reclining on piles of pillows, with wine in one hand and a book in the other. She perfectly fit Severus' conception of a goddess. Marian twisted around in order to see him, careful not to spill any wine.

"Severus," she said gently, "We could discuss the Horcruxes for hours…days, but I have many more things to tell you, so I'm going to pour all of my information at your feet. I'm certain that the more cards you hold, the more formidable your plans will be….Tell me, have you ever heard of the Deathly Hallows?"

He set his glass down onto the floor with a soft clink, before answering pensively, "No, I don't believe so."

Then she sat up and playfully beckoned to him. Severus watched her with a slightly puzzled look, but complied, warily slipping off the couch and coming to sit beside her on the floor, looking as out of his element as a cat in a bathtub. She constructed a pile of pillows for him with an attention to detail that made him feel cared for—a sensation that he had hardly ever experienced.

Once they were both half-sitting, half-lying, side-by-side, Marian held up the small book. "The Tales of Beedle the Bard," he recited musingly, and shot a reproachful glance at Marian.

"I know what you're thinking, but there's one story in here that you really need to hear," she told him seriously, and opened the small volume to the proper page, adding, "Please, read it aloud."

"Very well," he purred, and in his soft, rich tones he read the tale. His expressive voice, always pure silk, often matter-of-fact, occasionally ironic, and other times disbelieving, was the ears' equivalent of a six-course meal prepared by a master chef. Marian had never thought she could be _aroused_ by "The Tale of the Three Brothers," but it was all she could do to keep from ravishing his mesmerizing lips.

She focused on the hand the held the book and once again marveled at its exquisite beauty. It was living marble, with delicate veins playing under the surface. The long, elegant fingers caressed the pages with practiced care, and he came to the end of the tale only just in time. Another moment and she would have reached out and stroked that refined, sculpted hand, and if he responded to her touch even a little, she knew she would drown in him.

He turned towards her, fixing her with his hypnotic, questioning gaze, and said drily, "I take it that this story is not entirely fiction."

Severus sat up, arranging his pillows with his wand so that they would not move from their place and would allow him to sit completely erect. He was not used to lounging about, and when his attention was no longer engaged by the story, he was very conscious of the sumptuous, seductive setting and the woman next to him. He had felt her gaze as he read, and it had made his skin prickle with excitement. But a lifetime of repression and self-denial aided him in resisting the exquisite temptation that she presented. He shook himself and sat upright, in an effort to dispel his voluptuous languor, reminding himself that he had no right to Marian's body, _no matter how much he wanted to wrap her legs around him and take her roughly on top of the pile of soft pillows, and_….He shook his head to clear it and tried valiantly to dispel his sudden tension.

Severus had never forgotten the words he had overheard Marian say to Sirius Black. She had admitted that she believed in being married before making love. In a wistful sort of way, he wanted that for her. He strongly felt that she deserved a man that was able to wed and cherish her, who would respect her values. He understood that marrying her wasn't really an option for him.

He knew that he and Marian shared a bond and that she admired him. He could hardly forget their one passionate interlude together-it had lit up his whole life. But the possibility that Marian might actually want _him_—want him as a man, and see him as a possible mate-still didn't quite compute. Several theories about that night had been swirling around in his head for months, contradicting each other and misleading him.

Perhaps, he thought, Marian had merely 'given in' to him and gotten swept up in the physical. Or maybe she mistook pity for affection. She had been so focused on helping him that she probably confused her desires with her self-appointed duties, feeling a misdirected devotion to an unworthy object. At best, he was sure he was merely a phase.

In spite of her encouragement, he remained very pessimistic about surviving the war. And even though she professed to care about him and had proven herself to be his fast friend, he couldn't help but feel that friendship with him must be all she really wanted.

In his darker moods, he had wondered if her flirtation sprang from real feeling or mere feminine vanity. Some women enjoined enslaving men, when they had no care for them and no intention of giving anything in return. Female Death Eaters had vied for his attention before, imagining that he would be a useful conquest. But he had been far too mistrusting to succumb to their wiles—and rightly so.

Severus took it for granted that he did not inspire love in women. It hurt him if he thought about it too much, but most of the time he simply accepted it, as he did the other facts of his miserable life—like the fact that his nose was much too large, or the fact that others would _always_ prefer Potter and Black. His unattractiveness had nearly reached 'law of nature' status in his own mind.

Even if his insecurities prompted such unworthy thoughts about her, he completely excused her of all blame. His heart had a strange sort of innocence, considering her to be too beautiful, too special, too far out of reach. But even if he didn't dare believe she could be meant for him, the thought of another man taking her filled him with fury.

"You're a quick study. You have no idea what a rarity you are…and how invigorating it is to be around a man that always stays a couple of steps ahead," she broke in upon his thoughts with a half-teasing, half-admiring smile that quickened his pulse.

"I'm afraid you're giving me entirely too much credit. I still have no idea what you intended me to take from this story—whether the artifacts actually exist or whether someone just thinks that they do….Perhaps Potter's Invisibility Cloak is one of these _Hallows_," he tossed the last line out a bit sarcastically.

Marian laughed out loud, but quickly sobered. "It is ironic that you laugh, when you yourself are one of a handful that has seen all three Hallows," she mused.

"Marian, be serious," Severus said derisively, but in spite of his hard words, he shifted uneasily.

"As a matter of fact, Potter's—I mean _Harry's_—Invisibility Cloak _is_ one of the Hallows. On his father's side, he is a descendant of the youngest of the Peverells—the historical three brothers from the story," she said with a slight grin.

Severus made a face like he had just swallowed curdled milk, and so Marian hurried to discuss the next point and to leave the Potters behind. "As for the other two Hallows-" she began, but he suddenly cut her off.

"Wait just a moment, Marian," he interjected, "We are taking it for granted that these Hallows actually exist. But Dumbledore never breathed a word about them and allowed Potter to prance about the castle with the cloak for _years_, using it for rule-breaking and personal gain."

She cast him a sympathetic glance before explaining gently, "Regardless of his actions, Dumbledore _did_ believe that the Hallows exist. But he had his own very good reasons for not advertising the fact. I had read the story of the Hallows before, but never knew they were real until I was able to eavesdrop on him….You saw the cursed Horcrux ring, didn't you?"

"Yes, Dumbledore called me as soon as he returned to the school. His hand was black and I could see the curse spreading up his arm. The ring was obviously the source. It was strangely shaped, a black stone in a silver setting. The stone was cracked," he remembered, pain leaking through his normally sleek voice.

"You asked before why Dumbledore would touch a ring that was obviously cursed. Well, it's because of that black stone. Even in its setting, he recognized it for what it was," Marian told him, clasping her hands in her lap in an effort not to reach out to him.

"The _Resurrection Stone_," Severus answered in sudden realization, and added in a dead voice, "He told me he had been 'sorely tempted'."

Marian reached out again and was a hairsbreadth away from stroking his arm when she suddenly remembered herself and jerked back her hand. She took a deep breath and returned to business once again. "I don't know what has become of the stone from the ring. I thought it might be inside that mysterious snitch he left to Harry in his will, but it may also have been buried with him," she commented.

Severus only lost command of himself for a moment before regaining his normal cool, self-contained bearing. He answered her with logic, no trace of emotion remaining in his liquid voice, "No. Whatever happened to the gem, it was not buried with him. I only saw him wear the ring once after his curse injury, and it was during the Start of Term Feast. Perhaps he was sending Potter a message. Who knows? …I have not seen the ring in any of his private rooms...I suspect that your suspicions are correct where Potter is concerned. Considering the nature of the object, I sincerely doubt that Dumbledore would have wanted it to fall to me."

"Why, is there someone he knew you would want to resurrect?" Marian asked rather flippantly.

"Yes," he answered softly. Marian waited for him to elaborate, but he said nothing else for a few moments and the silence grew awkward.

Noticing this, he took a deep breath and with a slightly forced smile said lightly, "Tell me more, Scheherazade."

Marian's aqua eyes regarded him thoughtfully, even as her mouth quirked upwards, acknowledging the humor of his comment. She began speaking again, and even though she was merely relating information, her voice had unconsciously become lower, more confiding, "The Unbeatable Wand is easily traced throughout history, because it passes from hand to hand through violence—usually murder. Its previous owner must be vanquished in order for the wand to reach its full potential. If it is inherited or handed over without a struggle, it will operate as an ordinary wand. Because of this, whoever happens to possess it has a powerful incentive to keep the fact to himself.

"The Dark Lord has been searching for it. It has become his obsession. Harry has been having visions of his quest for the Elder Wand, but has only lately begun to understand the legend. I have always loved folklore, and am well-versed in Muggle and wizarding myths, so I put the puzzle together before he did. In fact, something happened the other night that made me throw caution to the wind and approach you, although I had been hesitant before," she began.

Severus said nothing, but grew suddenly very tense.

"I left both listening devices in my ear. After Dumbledore died, I removed the one that had transmitted from his glasses, but I replaced it in time for the funeral. I had been skulking in the back and it was an easy way to hear the ceremony….Well, I forgot that I had it in—it's very small and light, and no sound came from it, as Dumbledore was in the tomb," she related, noting with dismay the shiver that wracked Severus' frame when she mentioned Dumbledore's resting place.

But she hurried her account along, hoping to draw him away from his personal horrors and into her explanation, "But two nights ago, it emitted a dreadful sound in the middle of the night, startling me. It was the crack of a great stone smashing, and then I heard cold, exultant laughter….The Dark Lord has violated Dumbledore's tomb. He now carries his wand."

Severus involuntarily covered his face with his hands for a moment, before looking back up at her with a terrifying light in his ordinarily deep dark eyes. "That he _dared_….It is unforgivable," he whispered.

"Yes," Marian murmured, "But his grave-robbing was not in vain. Dumbledore _did_, in fact, possess the Elder Wand. He won it by defeating Grindelwald, who had stolen it from its previous owner. Grindelwald never truly harnessed its power….But Severus," and here she leaned forward earnestly, "_the Dark Lord did not win the wand from Dumbledore._ If he was learned enough to track it down, then he will certainly be savvy enough to realize that it is not working for him as it ought. He already has the wand-maker, Ollivander, captive, I believe. It will not take long for him to discover the truth."

"Indeed not," he muttered, grasping at once the import of her words.

She hesitated before tenderly touching his sleeve, barely caressing him, but it was enough to draw his attention back to her. "I have heard Harry's account of the events that night on the Astronomy Tower," she said with a quiet urgency, "And Draco Malfoy disarmed Dumbledore before you arrived and cast the Killing Curse. I do not know to which of you the wand truly answers, but the Dark Lord only knows that Draco was ineffective, and that you carried out the mission. So whether you won the Elder Wand or not, sooner or later, the Dark Lord is going to see you as an obstacle in the way of him unlocking its full power. And when that day comes, he is going to try to kill you."

Severus sat as still as a statue, seemingly unaffected, until, with a bitter twist of his lips, he replied, "I have always suspected that I would meet my death at his hands, but I thought it would be because he discovered that I was a spy…not simply because he found it more expedient to have a more potent wand than to retain my services."

"You will _not_ meet your death at his hands," Marian said, with a fierce look in her normally shrewd, green-blue eyes. She reached down to pick up her bag, which had lain forgotten on the floor, and silently summoned two vials of liquid from it.

He cocked his head to the side and she answered his implied question by saying, "I do not think that the Dark Lord will chance killing you with his wand—his new or his old. He won't trust them—not while he considers you the true master of the Elder Wand. He will be leery of using them against you—especially since he has had mishaps with wands before—like his twin-core issue with Harry and his backfired Killing Curse….He will not want anyone else to kill you, because he will suspect that then the ownership of his wand will pass to your murderer…." Marian stood and began pacing beside the sofa, going over the possibilities aloud. Severus listened to her, and his own clever mind rapidly ran through scenarios.

"I doubt he will try to poison you," Marian continued seriously, in the same macabre vein, "because he would know the wand probably wouldn't realize that you had been overcome by him….He will want to kill you himself, so I suspect either a dagger—which is risky—you are very powerful…or what I imagine to be his most likely weapon of choice, the snake, Nagini. Since she is a Horcrux, she actually_ is_ the Dark Lord, in a sense. Also, she is very dangerous, and you would have to fend off not only the snake, but the Dark Lord as well. Do you know if he has ever used her for murders?"

"Yes, he has gotten more into the habit of late. The Dark Lord used to dispatch victims with the Killing Curse before letting her feed on the bodies, but the creature enjoys the taste of warm blood, and I have heard it recently said that he…indulges her," Severus answered, with a moue of distaste.

"I knew it," she muttered to herself, and presented him with the first vial.

"I cannot refute your logic….Half a moment, is _this_ supposed to be something to save me from her bite?" he asked cynically, taking it with his practiced fingers and holding it up to his assessing black eyes.

"No. Severus, I'm not a fool. I know that if this snake is able to attack you, the odds of me ever seeing you again are very slim. So I hope that we can prevent the situation entirely," she said determinedly.

He held up his hand to her and laughed mockingly, the sound one of despair cloaked in disdain, "Marian, the only way I can avoid that eventuality is if I abandon my duty, blow my cover, and flee. The Dark Lord is clever, and I am sure that when the time comes for him to require my death, he will have made perfect preparation. Disapparition will be out of the question. He will leave nothing to chance…. So I will meet my end by snakebite. It is no more or less gruesome than I expected. Marian, I'm not a coward. I find this extremely distasteful, but I accept it. Dumbledore has given me a task. I have to try to protect the children at this school until I am dead or otherwise incapable. I also have to warn Potter that he is a Horcrux, and I am supposed to wait until his final showdown with the Dark Lord to do that..."

His tone had gentled the longer he spoke, and he finally reached out and touched her hand. Marian exclaimed, "_I_ could warn Harry! There's no reason for you to wait until the last moment. He would probably believe me a lot easier than he would you, anyway!"

"No!" Severus practically barked at her, leaving her gazing up at him with wide eyes. "You will not be present at the final battle. You must swear this to me!"

"I won't swear it. What, are you crazy?" Marian asked incredulously, "I could be very useful in the battle—and before. Severus, I've never shown you the extent of what I can do. You know that I'm capable of wandless, non-verbal magic, right? Well, I do nearly everything that way. It was how I taught myself. My wand is nothing but a prop that I'm forced to use in public.

"I have a plan that I have been meaning to run by you….Theoretically, I have the power to wandlessly kill someone—or several someones, and then to transfigure their bodies into dead leaves, burn them up with a conjured flame and blow away their ashes. In a matter of seconds, it would be as if they had never existed at all.

"I have heard about these gangs of Snatchers that Apparate to wherever the Dark Lord's name is called. It would be very easy to lay an ambush for them. I could Polyjuice myself into someone young and innocent-looking, perhaps holding a book in my lap as though I had accidentally read the Dark Lord's name, and hadn't meant to say it at all. My apparent vulnerability would completely throw them off-guard."

Marian didn't notice that Severus looked totally incensed, and that his eyes had narrowed when she mentioned the use she had planned for his Polyjuice. Caught up in her plan, she continued to confide in him, not realizing that he was growing more and more exasperated with each word.

But she blissfully continued to pour out the scheme that she had developed over the past few days. The idea had first occurred to her while spending an evening at the Weasleys. Kingsley had dropped by, giving them a bitter account of the outrages perpetrated by the Snatchers. Her anger had burned against them, and she thought that completely wiping them out would be doing the wizarding world a good service.

She added, "I would have my wards already set up to prevent Disapparition. When they arrived, I would activate my wards with an unspoken word. That way none could escape to go tell the Dark Lord. Then I would break the taboo on his name, and they would immediately appear before me. I might even let them disarm me. Suddenly, they would begin falling down lifeless, and I could pretend to be as puzzled as the rest of them, but before they managed to figure it out, they would all be dead, and soon there would be no trace of them remaining.

"I could carry out several of these operations, in different secluded areas. I would execute them all in one afternoon, before word could get back that something suspicious was happening. If I lost the element of surprise, I know it would all be over for me. But just think, Severus: in one afternoon, I could decimate the Dark Lord's forces!"

Marian's eyes shone with fervor and her cheeks were flushed with excitement, but her euphoria began leaking away when she suddenly noticed that dark storm clouds had gathered over his brow. He was at his tensest, his iciest, narrowing his eyes at her as though she had done him some sort of great personal wrong.

"That is the most foolish, reckless, pipe-dream of a plan that I have ever heard," he said, his acid tone etching each word deeply into her heart. He continued speaking, but his cold, harsh timbre grew less controlled with each sentence. Marian watched in silence. It was a terrible thing to see Severus Snape completely unravel.

"Have you ever killed anyone?" he began in a soft, deadly voice.

Without waiting for an answer, he continued, "No? Then what makes you think that you are capable of _one_ murder—much less dozens? Because that is exactly what it would be, Marian—murder. You talk about killing with the zest of a schoolboy. I expected to find wisdom in your heart-not the bloodlust of a newly-recruited Death Eater!"

He suddenly took her hands in a steely grip and leaned close, gazing into her eyes with a burning intensity, "Your eyes are clear—like your soul. Do not pollute yourself with the shedding of blood, as I have….I remember what you said at an Order meeting one time. You were protesting that there was nothing special about the Killing Curse, that it doesn't damage the soul more than any other method of killing—and you were right. _All_ methods of murder-whether dagger, poison, or trickery-destroy the soul of the perpetrator."

"Severus, this is war! Ambushing the enemy is not the same as murder. It is a bit of a gray area, but my conscience will be clear," Marian protested stubbornly.

"No!" he snarled, nearly making her jump, "You are too kind, too good. You belong in the light, not…fog….But setting the moral question aside just for a moment, do you have any idea how much concentrated hate, power, and magical energy it takes to perform the Killing Curse even _once_? What if there are more Snatchers than you anticipate? There are guaranteed to be at least five or six grown wizards. All it would take to ruin you would be for even _one_ of them to have half a brain. What if you begin and find you are unable to finish? Or what if they Stupefy you the moment they appear on the scene, before you are able to do anything? Then they will carry you back to the Dark Lord….

"I can bear the fact that I will be killed and eaten by that horrible serpent, but I _will not_ die with the knowledge that you will soon be dead as well, after suffering awful torment….And I shudder to think of the things you could give up under torture. What if you revealed Potter's mission? You know too much to place yourself at risk that way. If you are going to be an intelligence-gatherer, then you cannot also be a common soldier. You cannot have your cake and eat it too."

"Severus, I am uniquely suited to be an ambusher. I have a gift. Why shouldn't I use it to help us win the war?" Marian asked, holding her head high and meeting his burning gaze with defiance.

Exasperated, he pinched the bridge of his nose in a long-suffering manner and tried a different tack, "Marian, the gangs you want to target are _not_ composed of Death Eaters. Snatchers are merely amoral idiots on the fringes of society, petty criminals trying to make money and stay out of the bad graces of the Dark Lord and the Ministry. They are generally not very good fighters, and their impact in a battle would be miniscule, at best—they would probably slink off before the fighting started. Killing them would get you nowhere."

"Last I heard, Fenrir Grayback was a Snatcher," she contended haughtily. Marian had hoped that he would admire her for this idea as he did most of her others, and her pride was hurt when he didn't. _She_ thought the plan terribly clever.

After pausing to wet her lips, she added, "Severus, it would be a decisive blow against the Dark Lord, with very little risk."

He looked as though he would finally explode in fury, after several minutes of simmering, but he—just barely-controlled his temper, and instead of the shouting she expected, his tone was low and mocking. He wielded his extraordinary voice like a blade, and its smooth, polished character made it far sharper and more uniquely suited to cutting than the tones of an average person. Severus hissed, "Your arrogance is extraordinary. You may be well-educated and clever when it comes to wandless magic, but surely you know that every witch or wizard has his specialty. Someone else may be a much better fighter, with quicker reflexes….You overreach yourself, my dear."

"I am _not_ being arrogant! I've merely concocted a plan that favors my particular strengths. I'm not so vain that I think there are no other powerful witches and wizards around. That's not what I meant at all, and you know it! ...And your arguments are contradictory anyway. A moment ago, you told me that the Snatchers were talentless and useless, small fish, hardly worth my trouble. And now you're pontificating about how I underrate the abilities of others! Well, let me tell you something, Severus Snape-" Marian poured out, filled with righteous indignation.

But he cut her off, murmuring very softly in an oddly toneless voice, "So I suppose that my objections mean nothing to you."

She was very angry, and his cold, cutting words had affected her like gasoline poured over a fire, so much so that she completely forgot herself and leapt to her feet, snarling, "Don't try any cheap manipulative tricks with me! I'm not one of your students that you can bully and threaten until you get your own way, _Professor_."

Trembling with fury, he rose in a smooth, dangerous motion. "When we first met, you told me not to throw your 'well-respected career' back in your face. Well, I would thank you to show me the same courtesy," he said coldly, before spinning on his heel and heading for the door.

Marian was torn. She was still very angry, and wanted him to remain until she made him see things her way, but there was also a fluttery, anxious feeling inside her that grew stronger every minute, and she knew it was simply because she didn't want to be apart from him. And so, unthinkingly, Marian charged forward and grasped his arm to detain him, calling sharply, "Don't walk away from me, _Professor Snape_. We're not finished here!"

Without glancing at her, he snarled, "Let go of me, you little hell-cat."

When he continued striding forward, robes billowing, paying as little attention to the stumbling woman clutching his sleeve as he would a twig that had snagged his robes, Marian finally completely lost it, and sneered in a mock-innocent voice, "But I didn't say a word about your 'well-respected career', because last I checked, _spying_ is still considered the most_ amoral_ vocation of all."

The last thing she expected was to be spun around like she was made of straw and held inches from his furious face. She refused to wilt under his intimidating glare, even though her whole body thrummed with apprehension and…excitement. Severus' preternaturally clever eyes glittered at her in warning.

"So," he said in a low voice that trembled with rage, "I suppose you are not as blind to my faults as you pretend."

But before she could reply, he swooped down on her. All at once his mouth was upon her lips, branding her, consuming her. His kiss immediately went to her head, surrounding her, possessing her. Severus didn't doubt or hesitate, but unleashed the full force of his passion and frustration. He had never been so rough with her, so uninhibited. And she found herself loving it. This kiss spoke of fire, anger, mastery…and anguish. After a moment, her surprise wore off and she began to reciprocate in earnest, sucking and nipping at his lips, his tongue. He groaned, and abruptly ceased ravishing her mouth, tearing himself away from her. Before she could muster a protest, he had exited the room in a swirl of black.


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25: The Medallion

She stared at the closed door for a few moments, and then, as though in a trance, walked slowly over to the large windows, pressing her forehead against the glass in an attempt to cool her flushed body. Severus had been intense, dominant, overpowering…and absolutely wonderful. She took a deep, shuddering breath and marveled at herself. Marian had never thought that she was the kind of girl that secretly had a primitive, cavewoman urge to be at a man's mercy, but apparently she did-as long as Severus Snape was that man. Causing the normally cool, imperturbable wizard to lose control and channel his anger in such a…positive direction had sent her arousal skyrocketing. For a moment that left her breathless, she wondered what it would be like to completely surrender to him, to lie bare under his sinewy body, taking all of him when he was like this, fiery and unquenchable. She sensed that no other rapture would compare.

Marian didn't know how long she stood there, staring unseeingly out into the darkness, her thoughts scattered and disjointed after her altercation with the mercurial spy, but eventually she began to shiver, and paced back over to the fire, which had inexplicably roared back to life and was emitting a delightful heat.

She frowned to herself and wondered where Severus had gone. He shouldn't be forced to spend his Christmas Eve roaming cold, dark corridors in an effort to get away from her. She suspected that a little over an hour had passed. When she had set out for Hogwarts initially, her plan had been to spend only a couple of hours with Severus—just enough time to give him the information. But she hadn't counted on getting injured (although she _had _been completely healed for nearly a whole day), or in not being able to finish briefing him, and now she was facing her second night…_if_ he let her stay.

The rush from his bruising kiss had finally passed, leaving her sick at heart and deeply ashamed. After months of isolation, trauma and guilt, he needed her comfort and understanding. But instead, she had goaded him with an idea that she admitted might—_possibly_—have been (a _bit)_ arrogant. She knew how selfless he was. His care was always for others, never himself. Today Marian had dropped many bombshells on him, and he had taken the news of his own probable grisly death with equanimity, but she had pushed him still further, causing him to fear for _her_ life as well.

_Why_ had she informed him of a passing theory she'd had that she might not even have the skill to implement? She loved scheming and collaborating with him, but she really should have known better. Still reeling from the heightened emotions, she wondered why she had sabotaged herself, causing him to understand that his fears meant so little to her. And if _that_ hadn't been enough, she had behaved irrationally, letting her temper and wounded pride get the better of her and taking an ugly cheap shot that had finally exasperated him. She _never_ should have impugned his character. She had known that it would hurt him, that he would take it hard, and had said it anyway. Marian bowed her head, and tears of bitter regret dripped slowly, coating the tasteful sparkles on her dress.

After spending a long time in self-recrimination, suddenly her eyes hardened with resolve. _ Never again_ would she drive him away. He had no one else. The last thing he needed was another critic, another hand throwing stones. It had taken an ugly conflict, but Marian finally grasped that love required more from her than efforts to preserve Severus' life. She must also protect his heart, his spirit. If someone else had spoken to him the way she had, she would have wanted their blood. There was no excuse for her lapse.

Marian was generally even-tempered, and knew that she had the capacity to ignore his harshness and focus instead on the insecurity and genuine worry that prompted it. She would be his safe haven, not another hateful accuser to compound his hurts. If he could forgive her after seeing her at her worst, she would be much more careful with him in the future. The remorseful witch vowed to cherish him and to keep her words gentle. She would_ not_ lose her temper with him again. He should have the best of her and she would save her cruelty for her enemies. Severus had not deserved this brutal treatment-_especially_ not from her. _Never from her._

She numbly decided that she would make use of the time he was away by taking her shower and changing for the night. She briefly considered a sumptuous bath like the one the night before, but decided to deny herself that pleasure. Marian sped through her ablutions, thinking that surely he would return any moment. She resolved to make things right between them. He suffered enough on a daily basis, without her dropping in to make him feel worse. She put on a simple white gown and stared at it critically in the mirror.

All at once, it changed to a luscious, Christmas green. She transfigured it until it was just right, and the slim straps became silk holly leaves climbing delicately over her shoulders. The gown was soft and short, wrapping about her, with beautiful detailing. Emerald vines hugged her body and glittered in the light. She covered the lovely confection with a dark green robe, trimmed in white fur that slightly opened in the front, showing glimpses of her luscious bodice.

Now that she had adorned herself, she wandered back into the bedroom, where there was still no sign of Severus. Growing genuinely concerned, she poured a glass of wine and sipped it slowly, staring moodily into the flames and lightly clasping the vial of Nagini's venom, which had lain forgotten on a sofa cushion. After about fifteen more minutes passed, she rose and began pacing restlessly, still toting her wine glass.

After Severus had left his quarters, he had roamed the halls, burning off furious energy. He had been terrified by Marian's foolhardy plan and had lost his temper. He cringed when he thought about how he had assaulted her mouth, but paused mid-step as he relived how incredibly fantastic she had felt succumbing to him. And when she had begun to kiss him back with equal passion, he had known that he had to get out of that room before he ended up trying to take things further, and experienced the pain and embarrassment of being turned away.

He swallowed hard and kept moving, more quickly than before, spurred on by his swirling emotions. Mercifully, he met no one, because he hardly looked himself and had never felt less cool and collected. Eventually, he calmed down a bit and was able to regroup and bend his formidable intelligence towards devising arguments to refute her scheme.

After he had been stalking through the dungeons—who knew how long it had been really—an icy fear suddenly gripped his heart. What if she had gone? What if he returned to his chamber only to find it empty? At once, nothing else mattered, as long as he could look on her again.

The harried spy rushed through the castle, muttering the password to the headmaster's staircase and loping up the steps, before finally passing through his office and flinging open the door to his bedchamber. Marian heard him and whirled around, gently placing her goblet on an end table, her heart leaping at the sight of him. He was flushed and breathing hard, and looked a little wild.

The moment Severus saw her, he paused on the threshold, gazing at her, drinking her in. He thought she looked like a wood nymph, an elven queen. She watched him with wide, deceptively soft eyes and seemed poised for flight. He did not know how to apologize, but she appeared to be waiting for him to speak. He cleared his throat and fell back on sarcasm, his old standby. "You look like one of the Bacchae," he muttered sardonically, motioning to her wine.

Marian had waited to see if he was still angry, and when she understood his present frame of mind, rushed towards him in a flutter of green and surprised him by wrapping her arms around him. "I'm sorry," she murmured into his robes, "I'm _so_ sorry! I never should have lost my temper and spoken to you so cruelly. I mean to make you happy, not to hurt you."

He said nothing, but clutched her slender form to him with enough force to suggest desperation. After a few moments of exquisite closeness, where she felt his warm, steady pulse against her temple, Marian slipped away from his embrace. Interlocking her hand with his, she led him back to the sofa. They sat next to each other and each seemed a little abashed. Severus cut his eyes towards her several times, and finally spoke up, remarking stiffly, "Marian, I never should have-"

She playfully touched her forefinger to his lips and purred, "Severus, I'll find it highly insulting if you apologize for kissing me."

His eyes widened, but he still had an aura of shame about him when he replied, "Very well, then not for the kiss….But I certainly owe you an apology for…unnecessary roughness."

He glanced away, but Marian cleared her throat and answered a little too breathlessly, "Don't apologize for that either."

Severus didn't misunderstand, and his eyes immediately darkened with lust. He leaned slightly away from her in an effort to keep himself from coming back for round two. Marian noticed his withdrawal and took the opportunity to return to business and to distract herself from an urgent need to make love with him in front of the fire for hours….

"Listen, swee—_Severus_," she began unthinkingly, and blushed crimson when she caught herself in the middle of a Freudian slip. He didn't comment, and she surreptitiously glanced up at him through her lashes. Marian could have sworn she saw his lip twitch, and there was a glimmer in his eyes that hadn't been there before.

"_Anyway_," she went on a bit desperately, trying to recover her equilibrium, unconsciously clutching and twisting a handful of her velvet skirts, "I was thinking about that plan I brought up to you, and about what you said."

He looked as though he was going to interrupt, so she sped up her words, "Perhaps it wasn't the best idea I've ever had. It definitely had some kinks to work out….Now that you know all the facts, maybe we could come up with something together…."

"Marian, _no_," he said gently, but there was humor and not anger in his tone this time.

She nearly protested, but found his long, elegant finger resting on her parted lips. The look in his eyes was playful, and she realized that he was returning her gesture of a few moments before. For a split second, she felt a longing to dart her tongue out to taste him, but resisted, not knowing how he would react. He spoke again, asking her in mock-severity, "Besides, who would look after that ridiculous little pet of yours if something happened to you?"

"You?" she asked teasingly, giving him a coy smile.

She was rewarded with the rare sound of his rich baritone laughter that made her nearly squirm with happiness. "Not a chance," he replied, with a quirk of his lips, "I'd toss that wretched creature onto your funeral pyre and be done with it."

"You would never!" Marian answered in a scandalized voice. Her eyes twinkled up at him with merriment and she paused for a beat before adding, in a mixture of skepticism and amusement, "So _that's_ why you think I shouldn't take any risks, because I have a _dog_ to take care of?"

His shadowed dark eyes flickered over her face, gauging her receptivity to his next words. "And me," he rejoined, in a tone that was intended to be light but somehow came out serious, slightly questioning.

"And _you_," she confirmed fiercely, "I will always be there to care for you."

He looked away, momentarily flustered. Marian thought that his expression was the most adorable thing she had ever seen. But Severus quickly regained his poise and met her gaze levelly.

"I will hold you to that," he said finally, in a very low voice.

With barely a pause, he continued in a different tone. It appeared that his unfailing irony had come to his rescue. "Perhaps you will not die anytime soon…_if_ you can avoid carrying out your mad schemes, at any rate," he responded drily, "As to your _plan_, how do you imagine the Dark Lord will react if everything goes smoothly? There are two likely outcomes once he notices that dozens of his minions have suddenly disappeared, leaving no witnesses and no bodies. The first scenario is that he will suspect they have been killed. If this happens, he will retaliate. It is impossible to predict whether his revenge will be focused on the Order or spread indiscriminately among the innocent.

"The second possible outcome is that he will believe a large number of his servants have suddenly deserted him. I guarantee that this will make him even more paranoid when dealing with his remaining followers…._He might even make us swear the Unbreakable Vow to prove our loyalty_," Severus added, hoping that he would dissuade her by showing how her plot could ruin him.

She sighed and responded, "I'll admit that a lack of knowledge of the Dark Lord's psychology was a major fault in my plan. I suppose you're right…it's not a good gamble. Very little payoff in exchange for awful, unpredictable dangers."

"Putting all this talk of odds and risks aside, you should not be mixed up in something like that. It is one thing to take life in a battle. But what you are suggesting—assassination—it will damage you…harden you," he said unhappily.

"You have convicted me!" she exclaimed, hanging her head, "I was wrong, and you make me ashamed. I play an excellent Lady Macbeth-I always have," she added with a brittle laugh.

She forestalled his objection by murmuring in a low, intimate voice, "That's one of the reasons you're good for me. You bring out my better nature….It has always been my tendency to come up with diabolical plots. I know that my arrogance has grown with my knowledge and independence. I'm fighting it, but am not even close to the person I ought to be. A weaker man would collaborate with me, or follow my instructions. But not you….You're too strong and have too much discernment to be led astray by me. And the funny thing about it is, I don't resent you for foiling my schemes. Instead, you make me want to be better—more honorable."

Severus was a man of ideals and secret integrity, but no one else ever saw his goodness, so he didn't either. His heart had been pierced by her earlier taunt, but as she lifted his pale hand to her lips and kissed it reverently, she went a long way towards undoing the harm she had caused when she had called him 'amoral'. His throat closed momentarily and he couldn't seem to speak. Finally he answered in a hushed, agitated voice, "Thank you. But I do not deserve those words. Our souls are not even on the same plane. Yours is light and goodness. Mine has fallen into darkness."

Before she could contend with him, he picked up the vial of green liquid that she had dropped and decisively changed the subject, "So, do you plan on telling me what this is?"

She allowed him to change topics, but kept his hand in her lap, stroking it gently, trying to show him the falsity of his words. "It has the potential to be your last line of defense—if all better plans fail," she answered, and summoned the second vial, which was filled three-quarters of the way with red fluid.

"Red and green—Christmas colors," she commented with a smile.

He quirked an eyebrow at her attire and she nodded and shrugged self-deprecatingly.

"Nothing wrong with being festive," she murmured.

"No indeed," he replied, eyes lingering a little too long on the ivory swell of her breasts, that looked as if they were encased by green vines, stray leaves splaying across them tantalizingly. He forced himself to look away.

Marian held up the green flask and said, "This is filled with Nagini's venom. It was extracted from Arthur Weasley and separated from his blood. You're looking at it in its pure form. This other vessel contains the antidote developed at St. Mungo's….Unfortunately, potions is not my area, but I thought that you might be able to come up with a vaccine or something. If we were able to neutralize the venom, which is a powerful hemotoxin, then if you were bitten, we would only have to contend with blood loss and tissue damage—which would be quite enough to be getting on with. But at least you would have a chance of survival…however slim. I know you're busy, and hate to burden you with something else, but I thought that I would, well, try."

"This is a wonderful gift, Marian," he said, but on a sudden thought, asked worriedly, "How did you get this? Does anyone know that you have it?"

"Don't worry, Severus. I have had them since Arthur was attacked. There's nothing to worry about, really," she soothed him, secretly pleased at his concern for her.

"But never mind about that—I have something even better for you," she removed a small gift box, wrapped in shiny green and gold paper, from her bag.

"Let me _present_," she snickered over her pun and his answering snort did nothing to conceal the fond way his eyes were glimmering at her. "The _first_ line of defense," she added after pausing for a beat. She handed the box to him shyly and murmured, "Merry Christmas," as an afterthought.

His lips curved upwards in bemusement and he carefully opened the box, to reveal a round pendant on a silver chain. He gently lifted it up and scrutinized both sides, pondering it for a moment before glancing up to meet her eyes in question. In excitement, Marian explained, "It's a Portkey—a very special one. Yours is the only one that exists. It has taken me _months_ to create. That's one of the reasons I waited so long to see you."

She noticed him reading the inscriptions on both sides and laughed self-consciously, "It's a silver denarius from the reign of the Roman emperor, Septimius Severus-who was a wizard, in addition to being a strong, capable ruler….I didn't want to make the Portkey something that would draw too much attention, but I hated the idea of something valueless and uninteresting around your neck, so I chose this, because well, you share the same name….But that's unimportant. It's what it can _do_ that matters."

Marian was embarrassed and speaking much too quickly. This invention had been a labor of love, very difficult to make, and created entirely for his benefit. It was critically important to her that he accept this gift.

"How does it work?" he asked curiously.

Encouraged by his interest, Marian resumed her tutorial, "Well, it must be touching your skin in order to activate….I wish that you would keep it around your neck perpetually until the end of the war. After all, you never know when it might come in handy….You can use this Portkey an unlimited number of times. But the best part of all is that it is not cued to a timer or a word, but to your _will_."

He raised an eyebrow skeptically, but she smiled at his disbelief. He was going to be impressed by what she told him next—she was certain of it. "It activates nonverbally, and you do not need a wand, or even full use of your limbs. You need only be conscious, because your will triggers the Portkey. This creation would only work on an extraordinary man—an intense sort of person, the kind ordinarily capable of powerful wandless magic—in other words, someone like you," she said, a bit self-consciously.

"Let me try to understand," he said slowly, "This device senses my desire and acts on it…. Tell me, can your device differentiate between will and desire? Every time I stand before the Dark Lord or attend a Death Eater gathering, I yearn to be as far away as possible. But even though I long to escape with everything in me, I have no intention of _actually_ running away."

Her eyes shone at him in warm appreciation, and he couldn't help but notice that they seemed emerald green next to her nightgown. Marian answered firmly, "Absolutely. It wouldn't do you much good if it couldn't. With this Portkey, the distinction between desire and intent isn't merely a philosophical or semantic one. My device will not whisk you away from any situation unless you _will_ yourself away. It doesn't operate on fear or hope or fantasy. You must make a conscious decision, and_ intend_ with all your considerable mental focus to leave behind whatever bad situation you find yourself in. You have to be in earnest in order to activate the Portkey—kind of like how you have to _mean_ certain powerful spells."

"Extraordinary. This is a safeguard against many kinds of ill fortune. I could laugh in the Dark Lord's face before suddenly disappearing out of his reach….Marian, it is as if you had given me one of the Hallows themselves. In fact, I prefer your gift to them all," he whispered, and while he spoke, he inquisitively turned the pendant and silver chain over and over in his hands, exploring them by feel and sight.

Touched, she watched him fondly for a few silent moments. "I'm glad you approve, _James Bond_," she answered, with a hint of laughter in her voice.

"Who?" he asked absently.

"Oh, a fictional British spy—very famous among Muggles. He's known for his vast array of gadgets—and his ability to charm women off their feet, of course," she laughed.

"Then that is where your comparison breaks down," he answered drily.

"Oh, I don't know about that," Marian said coyly, playing with the shiny gold ribbon, winding it about her fingers, "You _can_ be rather…compelling."

Severus felt a powerful surge of pleasure, but tried to hide it by saying acidly, "Flattery will get you nowhere, my dear….And in any case, your suave Muggle never had a gadget like _this_."

Deciding to move the conversation along before she took it upon herself to defend his desirability, Severus looked up and quickly murmured, "Where will this Portkey take me?"

"To my home in America. It is Unplottable and protected by the Fidelius Charm. Only you and one obscure person in the United States know of its whereabouts. You will be completely safe there," she replied, but for some reason, the answer she had given made her feel a bit vulnerable, as though she took too much for granted in delivering him to her home. There was something very…intimate about the whole thing. But Marian held her head high and refused to succumb to her insecurities. It was true that she wanted him, but she had caused the Portkey to send him to her home for safety reasons, not because she wanted to play house. So there was no reason for her to blush, really. If only her cheeks were capable of reasoning it out for themselves.

When he remained silent, and didn't utter any devastating criticism, she took heart again and continued. Marian held up her right hand and showed him a plain silver ring. To him, it looked exactly like a wedding band, and the sight evoked a visceral, violent storm of emotions that took him by surprise.

Marian was blissfully unaware of his sudden disquiet. "I will be immediately notified through my ring's Proteus Charm if you activate the Portkey, and will return home at once, in case you need medical treatment. I have been reading books about healing injuries and stockpiling potions and medical supplies in case the Dark Lord manages to give you a parting-shot—which I sincerely hope_ doesn't_ happen," Marian said, trying to remain businesslike, but she could feel herself melting with desire under the warmth of his approval.

Thinking that she was finished, and watching her with his penetrating gaze, he said softly, "You seem to have thought of everything, _Athene_."

She clapped her hands in joy and asked, "Will you wear it, then?"

He eyed her as though she had just stated the most obvious thing in the world and replied waspishly, although something soft and affectionate threaded its way through his usual irascible tones, "Honestly, Marian. The choice is effectively one of life or death. You have created the most brilliant magical object that I have seen in many years, and I would be a fool not to accept it….Do you have the intention to make others? It could potentially save many lives."

Anticipating an argument, she nevertheless answered steadfastly, "No. There are no others, and there will be no others—at least not until your pressing danger is over. This Portkey is one-of-a-kind, and I will not risk the possibility of someone revealing to the enemy that such devices exist. Your murder will soon be on the Dark Lord's agenda-if it isn't already, and I want you to be able to get away safely. That is my primary objective, and I would do nothing to compromise it….And before you decide to do anything foolish and noble," and here she gave him a severe look, "know that your Portkey is keyed only to you.

"The moment you touched it, you claimed it as your own. It will not respond to anyone else's magic—including Accios-and the chain is equipped with an Unbreakable Charm. If anyone else touches the necklace, or orders it to reveal its secrets, nothing will happen. Only you have the power to access the Portkey. If you are being scanned for hidden magical devices, it will not register, because it lies completely dormant until you decide to implement it—oh, and I added another charm to keep the chain from catching on your hair. It also won't fall off of its own accord, even if you are suspended upside-down. I thought about making the whole thing invisible, but that seemed a bit counterproductive."

Severus took a deep breath and murmured, "Well, you are certainly a clever little witch. I have done nothing to deserve such a gift, and I have nothing to offer you in return….But I must ask again, _why me_? Potter is in far greater need…."

Marian sighed and said gently, "Severus, you don't know your worth—your intrinsic worth, I mean. You are second to _no one_. And as far as Harry goes, he already has backup. He had Dumbledore, and now he has Hermione and Ron, who are very able allies. You have me…."

"And you are proving yourself rather useful as well," Severus said with an ironic twist of his lips.

"Put it on," Marian urged, "I won't be able to breathe easily until I see it safely around your neck."

She saw the glimmer of a smile and he retorted, "I had better change first. It would be somewhat difficult to drop the pendant down through the tight collar of my robes."

Marian nodded, and settled back into the couch to wait, with a feeling of relief that he had accepted her interference on his behalf without protest. Severus only took a few minutes, but she could see he had taken a shower by a few tell-tale water droplets that had somehow escaped the drying spell from his wand. He wore a nightshirt that looked identical to the one he had worn the night before. His old-fashioned attire seemed strange to her, because her male relatives and friends had all worn boxers and t-shirts at nighttime, but she had noticed long ago that clothing and manners were far more traditional and less 'Muggle' in the British wizarding world than they were back in America.

She had gotten used to the more ornate dress code herself, and even enjoyed it. It allowed her to put her creativity and transfiguration skills to use, because she usually didn't revel in shopping. But even though Marian liked the sumptuous gowns and robes that she invented (saving the best for the rare occasions when she saw Severus), she longed for a time when she could travel to the backcountry again, and trade in her silks for a pair of trail-runners and clothing made of Muggle, water-wicking fabrics.

Severus seemed a little stiffer than normal as he strode across the room towards her, and she suddenly sensed that he was feeling a little self-conscious. So she smiled up at him and whistled as he walked past. He shot her a reproachful, long-suffering glance, but she noticed with satisfaction that her tactic had worked. His usual fluid grace reappeared, and it seemed as though he had never had the momentary lapse of self-possession. Severus dropped down to the couch and gingerly plucked the pendant from its cushioned box. He glanced at her for a moment, and Marian had the idea that he wanted to ask her to put it around his neck, but he seemed to change his mind and quickly looped the chain over his head, tucking the coin beneath his nightshirt, next to his skin. Marian placed her hand over his chest where the pendant lay concealed, and felt the comforting thud of his pulse, that seemed to have kicked up a notch. She couldn't bear the idea of that warm, living flesh lying cold and still.

She looked up at his face and felt desire, but also a return of that concern she had felt the night before, when she had noticed how weary he looked. "What are your plans for tomorrow?" she inquired carefully.

She was almost sorry she had asked, because a light seemed to go out of his eyes, and a look of resignation took its place. "It is Christmas, so I am sure the Dark Lord will require my presence at Malfoy Manor. No doubt he will want to give a speech, and then will encourage his Death Eaters to mingle, drink, and share Muggle-baiting stories with each other before he unleashes them—_us_—back onto the streets," he said bitingly.

He didn't ask if she would be leaving tomorrow. He didn't have to. But Marian could have sworn that she saw vulnerability in the glance he shot her from under his velvety lashes. "Well, you had better get a good night's sleep to prepare for that ordeal," she said, and added soothingly, "I want you to rest tonight. I know what a toll all of this is taking on you."

"It is very difficult for me to find rest," he answered fitfully, "the nightmares rarely allow it."

At those words, Marian rose and took him by the hand, returning the sofa to its original form and sending it sweeping across the room to its proper place with a burst of wandless magic. He cast a sidelong glance at her that managed to convey both his curiosity and wariness.

"I know a preventative for nightmares….It's not foolproof, but it definitely improves your chances for a peaceful sleep," Marian said, "First, we'll address the physical: drink a tall glass of water before bed."

He raised his eyebrows.

"Trust me! You're used to the humid dungeons. Being up here in this tower, in the dry winter air, you're far more dehydrated than you think you are. And thirst does strange things to the mind. I always have night terrors when I'm thirsty. Think of mirages in the desert," Marian argued.

"Alright, I will follow your logic that far," he conceded, but looked far from convinced. Marian strongly suspected that it was because he had had the nightmares when he had been a professor in the dungeons as well—although perhaps they had not been as often or as…pronounced.

She smiled at him, a bit apologetically and said, "But I'm afraid logic will take you no further. It won't help at all with the other two parts of the treatment."

He motioned for her to continue, and Marian walked him over to his side of the bed, where she conjured glasses for each of them and filled them with water. With a mock salute, she took a sip, and he elegantly followed suit.

"As I see it, there are three components that can cause nightmares," Marian resumed, "If any one thing is off, a nightmare will result. If multiple things are off…well, I think that's the situation we're having now. We've addressed the physical side. The other two aspects are the spiritual and the emotional.

"You're tortured by guilt, and you need forgiveness and redemption. There is only one cure for spiritual distress, and we cannot achieve it on our own—although we can ask for it….Severus, do you think that we might…_pray_?"

He looked as though he had a myriad of questions, but suddenly felt very tired and overwhelmed, and answered hesitantly, "Very well, but I do not know how."

"I'll pray for both of us," she said quietly.

Instead of protesting, he allowed her to take his hand once again, and gently sank to his knees on the thick carpet beside the bed, following her lead. He possessed vague memories of doing something like this as a child. When he had been frightened, listening to his parents downstairs as they screamed and ranted at each other, getting closer and closer to where he had huddled, alone and distressed, he had mimicked the characters he had seen on Muggle television that had gotten on their knees and folded their hands, whispering requests like incantations. Severus hadn't understood what they were doing, but recognized instinctively that there was power there. He imagined it to be something like magic. And so a few times he had followed their lead and called out to someone in the darkness, asking for help, for protection. But he had never known the one he had petitioned.

Severus and Marian knelt beside the bed, facing each other on the curious carpet that looked like a map. She took both of his hands in hers and closed her eyes. After a few moments, he reluctantly followed suit. Marian was a Protestant and the prayer she uttered was not formulaic, but it still sounded very serious to him.

"_Dear Lord_," she began, and then she asked for her God to forgive her for her bloodlust and hate. She thanked him for many things, for her life and the hope she had, and for letting her meet Severus and showing her the truth about him. Her voice was filled with joy and thankfulness, and Severus' hands trembled in hers, but he did not interrupt.

Soon her tone changed, and she prayed earnestly for the outcome of the war, for a better world and for the survival of her friends. But mostly, she prayed for Severus—prayed for him with a concentrated passion, asking for his redemption, survival, strength. She prayed for his happiness, for his nightmares to vanish, for his burden to be lifted and for him to be filled with a knowledge and love of God. She asked many things for him and committed Severus to the care of her Christian God.

Marian's words cut Severus to the heart. He could tell that she believed in the one she was petitioning—_cared_ for the one she was speaking to. There was love and trust in her voice. Whatever else He was, Marian's God was good. Severus understood that all of her words had been spoken in earnest. The prayer had not been some sort of exercise to help him get to sleep. It had been intimate and genuine…and powerful. He had felt closer to her, relishing this newly discovered part of her, but he also felt set apart, as though he was eavesdropping on a private conversation.

When she finally uttered, "_Amen_," denoting that the prayer was over, Severus said nothing, merely helping her to her feet and then sitting on the edge of the bed, sipping his water contemplatively. The experience had been unusual, and he was feeling…relief, along with a strange sort of holy awe. Even the scientist in him had no wish to break the silence in order to ask questions.

Marian went around to the other side of the bed and seemed entirely unselfconscious; even though she had just bared her soul and her deepest beliefs to the man she loved. But it was not in her nature to be ashamed of the best part of herself, and so she took Severus' unusual mood in stride, dropping her robe to the floor and slipping quickly under the covers.

After his last sip and a considering glance at Marian, Severus doused the lights and lay beside her in the darkness. Finally, after several minutes had passed, he remembered something that he needed to ask her. "Marian," he murmured, "what is the third element for the prevention of nightmares?"

"Oh!" she exclaimed, "I had completely forgotten. Well, once your physical and spiritual needs are taken care of, some consideration must be given to your emotional ones. I find that when Ms. Bear sleeps against me, I have no nightmares."

"And you conclude from this-" he began sardonically.

"Severus, stop it!" she snickered, "I realize that I just gave you a beautiful opening for a sarcastic comment, but you're going to have to save it until I explain myself. I was_ going_ to say that _touch_ has the power to ease the subconscious mind. I believe that physical contact with someone that cares for you is a steady source of comfort, and that your sleeping self recognizes this," she finished, using her best lecturer voice to ease the embarrassment she felt at essentially saying that she was volunteering to hold him in her arms all night for his own good, and that she was a fitting candidate for this position because she 'cared' for him. Marian cringed and felt thankful that he couldn't see her rapidly blushing face in the darkness.

She was unprepared for his serious reply. "How much contact is required to gain the desired result?" he asked curiously.

"I suppose that I could sleep touching your hand or…more," Marian replied reticently, desire suddenly blooming throughout her body.

She suddenly felt his warm hand grasp hers lightly. She had prepared herself for a suggestive comment, and was frankly surprised when none came. His nightmares must be terrible indeed. After a while, her eyes adjusted to the dim light. The reddish embers in the fireplace, combined with the frosty glow of the winter stars kept the room from being completely cloaked in darkness.

"And what will I do once you've left?" he asked, so softly and sadly that she was uncertain he had spoken at all.

Marian felt an answering anguish rise up in her at his softly-voiced question, but decided to try to keep things light. "I'm sure you'll be relieved to be rid of me," she replied jestingly.

"Far from it," he countered, in his resonant tones that reminded her of some sort of expensive, beautifully-seasoned wood.

Marian squeezed his hand, and he added after a beat, "You are not really all that arrogant—well, you _are_, but your confidence lines up evenly with your ability….Also, I lied about your accent. It's unusual, but I find that I rather like it. I always have."

Marian basked in his praise—from him, it was praise indeed. Severus was not generally the sort of man that was overly extravagant in his compliments. She cared little for what other people thought of her, except for Severus. If only she could have his good opinion, the rest of the world could be damned, for all the notice she would take.

"Thank you. Now that I know I have your approval, I won't have to keep dressing up to try and impress you all the time," Marian joked, trying to conceal her obvious delight under the guise of merriment, but the moment she spoke, she was uncomfortably aware that her words were poorly chosen, because she had she had just told the complete truth—the completely embarrassing truth.

"But you always look so lovely," he rejoined, quickly covering what he considered a far too enthusiastic response by changing the subject, saying, "Do you transfigure your clothing? I rarely see such artistry on the street," and he pointed to the vines that wrapped seductively over her creamy shoulders.

Relieved that he hadn't noticed her gaffe, Marian smiled and responded, "Usually. It's a great opportunity to use my transfiguration skills and be resourceful. I don't transfigure clothes _all_ the time, but probably a great deal more than most because I dislike shopping. But I _do_ enjoy the ability to dress up without spending much time or money."

"Won't a quick 'Finite Incantatem' undo all of your hard work?" he asked thoughtfully.

"Not anymore," she answered with a smile, "I layer my charms in such a way that it would take several 'finites' to undo my handiwork. But I had an experience like that back when I was in my first year at university. I had gotten fairly adept when it came to Transfiguration and regularly altered my clothes. When it was getting close to the time for the Halloween costume party, I thought that I would show off my skills and create something _really_ fantastic.

"So that night, I adorned myself as a Roman lady and wore a dress that would have been nearly impossible for a Muggle to wear without having to be cut out of it at the end of the night—not because it was tight, but because the whole gown was held up with several strategic sashes. It was really quite impressive, if I do say so myself. Perhaps a little_ too_ impressive—it was obviously transfigured, and someone couldn't resist putting me in my place by whispering a Finite Incantatem."

"What did you do?" he asked, anger glimmering in his eyes on her behalf.

"I felt at once when the gown changed back to my regular street clothes, so I decided to bide my time and play it cool. I didn't even pause on my way to the bar, but simply waved my wand to transform my clothes into a Grecian gown and to turn my hair into writhing snakes….No one bothered me after that," she answered mischievously.

Severus smiled softly, his head resting near hers on the pillow. They were so close to each other that they almost shared breath, "You reacted appropriately," he conceded, "Had it been me, I would have immediately started searching for the culprit, not resting until I had cursed him so badly that my vanished costume would prove the most unremarkable incident of the night."

Marian snickered at his words, but sensed that he was being honest and not exaggerating. She had spent her entire time in Britain hearing two things about Severus Snape. First, people had gone on and on about how he was such a stickler for the rules as a Hogwarts professor, and secondly, they had brought up his (apparently very wide) vindictive streak. She supposed that he had adopted his 'two eyes for an eye' code because of his life of indentured servitude and abuse. After all, beaten dogs are the fiercest biters.

She stroked his arm and answered merrily, "Oh, I found out who it was that night, and by the next day had surreptitiously hexed him so many different times that he never looked in my direction again. I heard later that he had had a crush on me. He wasn't very bright, and someone had told him that if he said 'Finite Incantatem' that my clothes would fall off. Idiot!" she snorted with laughter.

Severus' lips twitched in an approximation of a smile and he commented, "He certainly merited whatever punishment you chose to inflict….You said that you used a wand that night. Have you always concealed your wandless abilities?"

"Well, yes," she replied nonchalantly, "My parents knew, and they indulged my eccentricity to practice wandless magic. Like most parents, they thought that their child was cleverer than all the other children."

"Mine certainly did not," he blurted out, before he thought to censor his words.

Marian had heard that he had had a miserable home life as a child, and so when his bitter comment spilled out, she was unsurprised. Instead of peppering him with questions, she merely eyed him with sympathy and murmured, "How ironic. Because they were the two whose child actually _was_ cleverer than all the rest."

Severus said nothing, but Marian could sense that she had soothed him. She continued, "I have always had many secrets, but that's because I have few friends. It's not that I'm particularly mistrustful. I just prefer privacy. I see no need to alert the masses to my business. I prefer that most people know next-to-nothing about me and that the ones I care about know everything."

"Who made the list?" he asked lazily, but his eyes belied his tone, shining with alertness and interest.

She shot him an assessing glance and admitted drily, "My parents are dead, and I am separated from my family and oldest friends by many miles and experiences….So just you.

"You're the only one that I trust and care for to the extent that I would have no secrets from. If you're still at all in the dark about me, it's only because we're rarely able to spend time together. And when we are, there's no time to talk about the past, or hopes and dreams and hobbies. Life-or-death matters get in the way—curses, the war, horcruxes…."

"I suppose you are right," he mused, "It would be a wonderful thing to be able to enjoy one another without being constantly distracted by the Sword of Damocles….But you have many friends. I am surprised that none of them share your confidence. I cannot understand why you have settled on me."

"_Love for all is love for none_, as the saying goes," she said flippantly, and then added quickly, "Not that I mean that you shouldn't care about all mankind. I just think that anything important is cheapened by being spread around. The people I value above all others should be the only ones entrusted with power over me."

"I could not agree more," he replied meditatively, "I have confided in no one for many years. I gave Dumbledore information and some of my secrets, but only the ones that would be of use to him. The rest I kept—still keep."

"Was there no one that you loved—a friend, relative…lover…that you could unburden yourself to?" Marian asked, only daring to be so bold because of the faint light and because the normally forbidding man reclined beside her, relatively at ease instead of in his usual impenetrable, tense-as-a-bowstring habit.

"You're asking the wrong person about love," he answered grimly.

"Oh, I don't think so," Marian answered straightforwardly.

He glanced up swiftly, assessing her with an intense glance, "What do you mean by that?"

She sighed, "In general, men aren't like you. People are pragmatists. Most people's love is a…tenuous thing, with a swiftly-approaching expiration date."

"And what have I done to merit exclusion?" he asked dryly. "I am practically known in the wizarding world as the patron saint of pragmatists."

"That has been your reputation, but it's only because people are misinformed," Marian said earnestly. "You were never an opportunist, switching to whichever side offered you the greatest advantages. That is not the kind of man you are. You give your whole energy to one side and hate the other. You know the good. You understand loyalty and seeing things through to the end—even if it ends in death, as all real loves do. No—if you loved, your love would be worthy of the name."

A shiver of longing passed through him at her words and he replied hoarsely, "You should not romanticize me."


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26: Confidences

Intoxicated by the drawing timbre of his voice, Marian reached out and tenderly stroked his hair out of his eyes. In the process, her fingers lingered on his bare collarbone, which had become very pronounced from the stress and malnourishment of the preceding months. Severus pressed his lips together to keep from sighing in ecstasy. Marian ran her forefinger lightly back and forth, mesmerized by the small amount of pale skin revealed by the loose neckline of his shirt. He allowed her to touch him for a while, fighting arousal and the overpowering urge to touch her in return. After a few minutes, he tentatively reached out and slid his hand up the length of her arm and cupped her shoulder, gently resting his hand there. His long-awaited reciprocal touch emboldened Marian to ask a question that she had been wondering about for some time, and most especially after he had admitted to wanting to use the Resurrection Stone.

"Severus, can I ask you something?" she asked shyly, "Is it true what Dumbledore said, that you have been protecting Harry for his mother's sake?"

Severus shot her a speculative glance and nodded. He appeared to consider his next words carefully, "Yes. I thought I loved her once…she never loved me. But I can hardly blame her for that. Marian, I never told you why I became a Death Eater, or why I changed sides, and you had the good manners not to ask.

"Any amateur psychologist could explain why I enlisted—power, forbidden knowledge, sponsorship, a sense of belonging….There were many reasons, all of them unworthy. I committed many sins as a Death Eater, but two stand out from the rest as unforgiveable. Until you, I have had only two friends, and I caused both of their deaths."

Marian looked as though she wanted to protest that killing Dumbledore shouldn't count, but Severus forestalled her, shooting her a quelling glance and spasmodically squeezing her upper arm, although she found the pressure of his hand gentle and by no means unpleasant.

"I know that you want to argue," he continued, "but you are determined to think the best, even when all evidence points against me. But perhaps you will rethink your position once I confess about Lily Potter….You see, _I_ was the one that related the prophecy about her son to the Dark Lord, and she and her husband were murdered for it."

"My dear, I know. I was eavesdropping on Harry when he found out," Marian murmured comfortingly, "But you did everything you could to avert the tragedy, and have paid for your sin long enough."

He took a deep breath, clearly not expecting this development. "How can you still think well of me, when you have learned so many of my terrible secrets?" he asked her pointblank.

Filled with pity and exasperation, Marian took hold of his left arm and yanked up the sleeve, exposing his Dark Mark. He flinched away, but she placed her hand over the blackened skin and looked him in the eye, willing him to understand. "Severus," she replied softly, "I've known that you bore this mark since the first time I saw you. I'm not a fool—I realized at once what it meant. I didn't know what skeletons lurked in your closet, but I knew that you must have them. There had to be _something_ that you were ashamed of—after all, you had changed sides and repudiated your old ways.

"But at that first Order meeting, tell me how I could have been repulsed by the man that stood up in front of everyone to relate the information he had endured torture to discover, only to be met with mockery and distrust for his efforts. A man brave enough, clever enough to deceive the Dark Lord—an honorable man, one that had done evil, but had changed his life."

"How could you ever trust me? Didn't you have questions? Didn't you ever wonder how many people I had killed?" he asked suddenly, brutally.

"I just told you why I trust you! And you may keep your secrets if you like. I don't need to know what you did—it is enough that you are ashamed of it now. You don't have to work for my loyalty or respect; you already have it.

"But if it makes you feel any better to unburden yourself, then fine. Tell me, Severus. How many people _have_ you killed? I'm guessing one. Judging from your reaction when Dumbledore forced you to kill him, that was the first time you took a life. Besides, if you were going to commit murder, there's no doubt in my mind that Sirius Black would have been first on your list. Since he's still going strong, it's clear to me that you were never all bad. Ambitious? Yes. Machiavellian? I'm sure. But not a murderer," Marian stated in her most practical voice.

He deflated at once. "I have only _directly_ killed one person. But the information I gave led to the death of Lily and her husband. Also, I invented lethal spells and potions for the Death Eaters, so there is no telling how many deaths I am _indirectly_ responsible for," he declared glumly.

Marian made no answer, but pulled his sleeve back into place and began rubbing small circles on his upper arm and back.

A sudden thought occurred to him, and he asked carefully, "Are you afraid of me?"

She was taken aback by the question, and by the strange earnestness of his gaze. Answering honestly, Marian replied, "No. All powerful people are inherently dangerous, but you're a moral man. I can appreciate that others find you intimidating, but I trust you too much to feel that way. I believe that people make mistakes, and that no one is perfect or completely trustworthy—I don't even trust myself, when it comes to certain areas. Sometimes it's wiser to avoid temptation altogether….But all things being equal, I would rather throw myself on a sharp knife than a dull one."

Her gaze softened as she added, "But in this case all things are _not_ equal. _You_ have no equal."

Marian was surprised by his response. His eyes regarded her warmly, but there was something slightly tensed and hunched about his posture. Marian realized that his self-recrimination ran so deeply that even her supportive words failed to completely drag him out of his guilt-fueled depression.

"What else do you want to know?" he asked moodily, as if he hadn't heard her, although she knew perfectly well that he had—had listened intently, in fact. Perhaps it would take some time for him to get used to the idea that someone found value in him and liked him best.

Severus was giving her carte blanche to ask whatever she liked, but she could tell that his offer was prompted more by some sort of masochistic impulse to warn her away rather than by actual faith in her continued loyalty. She had all sorts of questions for him. Marian was curious by nature, and especially curious when it came to Severus, the object of most of her thoughts. But she wouldn't pry—especially not while he was vulnerable and unhappy.

"Severus, I didn't come here to make you relive your worst memories. You don't owe me a confession. I don't care what you did in the past. That was another life, and you have paid for your crimes a thousand times over by sacrificing your dreams and your independence to undo the evil you caused when you were young and foolish. No matter what rumors I hear about you down the road, I will not think worse of you. You have all my trust, and all my loyalty," Marian answered staunchly.

As she spoke, an indecipherable look came into his eyes, a light that hadn't been there before. She had the curious sense that she had passed some sort of unspoken test, a test he hadn't been aware he had handed out until she returned it with the correct answers.

"I did not know there were women like you," he said, overwhelmed with her generous gesture, "I thought women were all inquisitive, and would never rest until they ferreted out every secret shame."

Marian smiled sardonically and answered, "I'm as nosy as the next woman. And don't take my lack of questions in regard to your misdeeds as an indication that I'm not interested in you, because that would be completely off-base. It's just that, well, you're an unusual man—a noble man, and I find myself trying to be worthy of you. I don't want to make you uncomfortable or shake your trust in me."

"You are a wonderful girl," he purred in admiration, "but you do not need to walk on eggshells with me. If you ever want to know something, I would like to satisfy you."

Marian colored at his double entendre and said, "Very well, I _will_ ask you about something. Tell me about Lily Potter—er, Evans."

"It's alright. There is nothing wrong with accuracy. _Potter_ was the name she chose for herself," he said pragmatically, "I presume you wish to know about my association with her," he commented, but it wasn't really a question. Marian nodded anyway.

"We were friends growing up, and she was my only friend for many years, until in my early teens I began associating with older students in my House. I thought they wanted my friendship, but they only wished to use me for my academic skills. I was attracted to Lily, but she objected to my companions, while she befriended the Marauders and openly flirted with my worst enemy. In spite of everything, I was in love with her. But one day, we had a fight and I called her something unforgiveable….She severed ties with me after that, and treated me like a stranger when I met her in the halls. I begged for her forgiveness, but she was inexorable.

"I left school and was recruited to the Death Eaters. I thought that I was being highly honored because I was the only half-blood to receive the Mark—you see what a little fool I was. With the Dark Lord's sponsorship, I was able to study under Nicholas Flamel, the greatest Potions Master alive at the time. He and Dumbledore were great friends and before I graduated, Slughorn asked him to send the alchemist a letter recommending me. Dumbledore claimed that he forgot to do it…but that is a story for another day.

"Anyway, while I was abroad, I wrote Lily letters. She never returned them. I later discovered that she had married Potter directly after leaving school. When I came back to England, I reentered the Dark Lord's service, and it was then that I overheard the prophecy and repeated it to my _master_.

"To my horror, the Dark Lord interpreted the wording to mean Lily's child, and targeted her and her family. I approached Dumbledore and told him that I would do anything. And so I became a double agent….But I failed—she died anyway. Afterwards, Dumbledore extracted my promise that I would always watch over her son—even though he turned out far more like his _father_ than Lily."

"Do you love her still?" she asked in an odd tone, fixing him with a penetrating stare.

Severus looked up at her with a vulnerable, startled gaze, but replied slowly in soft, pensive tones, "No, I…Marian, I was a fool. I haven't loved her for a long time—I'm not sure I really ever did. I found it hard to let her go, because of my culpability in her death…and because there was no one else….I have let guilt and a disappointed, one-sided love poison my whole life….But everything is different now. That old infatuation is like a faint shadow buried far in the back of my mind…."

Having a sly and subtle nature, Severus often didn't come right out and say what he meant, and so to make a point indirectly, he said next, "I had inadvertently revealed my feelings to the Dark Lord when I was forced to go to him to beg for her life—in vain, as it turned out. But he never would have known I cared otherwise. Lately, he seems to have realized that I no longer carry a torch for her. The other day he offered to find me a wife…or a mistress….He mentioned you specifically. He seemed to think it would please me to acquire you."

Marian was dying to ask, "Well, would it?" but refrained. She didn't want to suffer the disappointment of hearing him repeat that they 'couldn't do this'. She could be as indirect as Severus when the occasion called for it, and so she decided that as long as his behavior betrayed his interest in her, she wouldn't give him the opportunity to voice any denials….She had finally gotten savvy. So, deciding to flank him rather than charge head-on, she articulated the other question that had immediately leapt to her mind.

"And after you rejected me, who did he suggest you marry then?" she demanded jealously.

He eyed her curiously and answered offhandedly, "It was you or no one….I did not think that you would take kindly to being compelled to marry…and I knew that your feelings on being a mistress would be somewhat stronger."

"Be that as it may," she replied with dignity, "No woman likes to be rejected."

"That was hardly what it was," he answered in amused exasperation, "So stop sulking."

"It wasn't?" she asked hopefully, but then added archly, "I'm wondering whether you objected to the _nature_ of the offer or just the _terms_ of the offer….I'm curious as to what would have happened had he offered you someone else—someone beautiful…like Bellatrix LeStrange."

Severus scoffed in incredulity. "Marian, she's already married," Severus answered, and then, when he saw that she still looked at him with a raised eyebrow, he groaned and added, "I have no desire to look into a woman's eyes and see madness and evil. To me she isn't beautiful—has never been beautiful. I knew what she was like even as a child. I would rather make love to a rabid, feral cat than I would that dreadful harpy."

"Ordinarily, if someone said that, I would take it as 'no, I don't have feelings for Bellatrix'-but you're a _wizard_, Severus. I suppose that if you _wanted_ a jungle cat, you could find a way to make that work…" she trailed off, with a naughty sparkle in her eyes.

For a moment, Severus stared at her, drinking in the sight of her impudent little face shining up at him in mirth from one of his own pillows. His heart leapt with joy, and it suddenly occurred to him that he had a new Patronus memory—his were weak, and all too few. He had always mastered most spells with ease, but had found casting a Patronus incredibly difficult, especially as he grew older, and found that most of his formerly happy memories had become inextricably linked to tragic ones.

But even if he hadn't ever had much to be happy about, he possessed talent and self-discipline in spades. Those had eventually sufficed for even this tricky little spell. When he had finally seen the silver doe erupt from the tip of his wand, he had felt vindicated, thinking it was a sign that he and Lily were meant to be together, since she also had a doe Patronus. But then she had married Potter, which gave Severus another reason besides its incredible difficulty to avoid casting that particular spell. He tried to keep his Patronus to himself to avoid humiliation. Especially once he found out that Potter's form was a stag. That had stung. And then he had done a bit of reading on Patroni. He discovered that, although a Patronus _change_ indicates a powerful, all-consuming love, an imitative first Patronus often denotes immaturity. His discovery had made him feel even more unworthy and ashamed.

But Marian had never made him feel that way. She had never despised him or wavered in her loyalty, although he had long expected to suffer disappointment through her—and his suspicion had caused most of their problems. He knew that she had a fondness for him, although he doubted that her feelings matched his, but in the meantime, he was absolutely starving for affection, and he needed her—needed whatever of herself she was able to give.

"That is enough chatter, you cheeky little vixen," Severus said starchily.

Marian laughed softly in answer and draped her arm across his waist, lightly covering his back with her hand. In their loose embrace, Severus eventually slept. Marian watched over him languidly, noticing with satisfaction that his rest seemed to be peaceful. Once he gave a gentle sigh, and her eyes lingered on his Cupid's bow lips, so innocent-looking when they weren't curled in sarcasm or disapproval. The black circles around his eyes alarmed her, for they showed up noticeably against his ashen skin. Her gaze roamed over him for hours, and she contemplated him as though he was a glorious piece of art, a fascinating mystery.

Eventually, she rested herself, and in sleep, the two of them clung to each other even more closely. When the rising sun poured through the windows, Marian woke briefly, to see Severus' dark eyes on her face, and to feel his warm arms cradling her. Realizing that he was alert, she felt a stab of dismay that he was about to rise and that she would lose him. Marian tightened her hold spasmodically, shamelessly wrapping her arms around him and burying her head in the crook of his neck.

He groaned, but murmured, "Marian, I-"

"No, Severus. It's still early. Go back to sleep. Besides, it's poor form to leave the bed before the lady is finished with you," Marian remarked sleepily. Her sluggish mind intended the last comment to be humorous, but it came out far more provocative than she had expected.

His nostrils flared in answer and his tongue unconsciously darted out to wet his lips. "Then I will hurry back," he managed, delicately extricating himself from her soft, pliant limbs and heading for the lavatory.

He was as good as his word, and moments later slipped back beneath the sheets, before deftly lifting his wand from the nightstand to quickly close the curtains with a muttered spell. He lay down and pulled her into his arms, where she snuggled against him, caged by his lean, powerful arms, and her back pressed against his chest. "Merry Christmas," she sighed happily.

"Over here, it is customary to say 'Happy' Christmas," Severus replied sardonically.

"Now who's being cheeky?" she remarked humorously.

Severus gave a soft snort of amusement and she reached one hand behind her and gently entangled it in his hair. Marian loved being held by him. She had never felt so safe, so protected, or so relaxed. She opened her mouth and told him so. Severus shivered and said, "You must not say such things, Marian. Surely you realize the effect you have on me. After all, I am only a man, and you are putting quite a strain on my willpower."

"But you're strong—stronger than iron, stronger than steel," she mumbled playfully, basking in his hold.

Severus groaned again and tossed his head back. "Stop saying things like that! You will undo me," he growled.

"It seems like there is quite a list of things I must not say," Marian purred, nuzzling his neck.

After a pause, Severus answered silkily, "Oh you may say them, but you might not like the consequences."

Marian realized at once that she had carried their banter too far. Her blood pounded in her ears and her body was beginning to react in unmistakable ways to his suggestive words. But luckily, or perhaps unluckily, Severus seemed to share the feeling that things had gotten out of hand, for he said suddenly, "But I suppose that for today you will remain unpunished. Let's rest a little longer."

Marian sighed in acknowledgment, keeping her hand threaded through his hair, comfortingly cradling the base of his skull with her palm and rhythmically stroking the back of his head with her fingers. Her soothing, nurturing touch and the trusting way she reclined against him swiftly sent him back to sleep. It had been far too long since duties and anxiety had allowed the troubled wizard real rest.

Reveling in the proximity of this man whose magic was so potent that she could feel its prickle against her skin, Marian wished earnestly that he could be hers—_really_ be hers-and that there could be many more nights like this. But even though she knew that he was attracted to her, Marian could sense that he was very close to his breaking point. She felt that she would be taking advantage if she pursued him now. He obviously suffered greatly from guilt and loneliness, among other things. Also, she was all too aware of the fact that she was his only ally and comforter—and the only female that knew the truth about him. But once the world found out about his courage and ability, there would be many other interested parties. And even though the idea of Severus with another woman sickened her, she felt it would be only common decency to let him be until he could choose out of a larger pool, one where she wasn't the lone fish.

She doubted that she would ever find herself in his arms again, even though she longed for it with everything in her. But many trials lay ahead and there was far too much uncertainty. So she treasured the moment up in her heart before finally returning to slumber.

The next time Marian woke, she found herself pressed against Severus' body, but he no longer held her. Instead, he sat propped up by pillows in bed, reading a very old tome and absently stroking her hair. The moment she stirred, he guiltily jerked his hand away, as quickly as a striking snake.

"How long have you been awake?" she asked throatily.

He deftly closed the book and turned all of his considerable focus on her. "Not long. Perhaps half an hour," he answered gravely.

She noticed that he was still dressed for sleep and realized at once that he had postponed his morning ablutions, preferring to remain with her in bed. She was oddly touched. He seemed to think he needed to apologize or at least explain his continued presence, so he said sardonically, "I decided to remain here, not wanting to exhibit _poor form_ in case you weren't _finished_ with me yet."

Her eyes widened and she blushed, before reclaiming the hand that had recently been stroking her hair and murmuring, "I wasn't."

Even though only hours before Marian had decided not to make any romantic overtures to him, she found the truth of her love bursting to escape her at every opportunity. Gazing into his fathomless eyes and placing a fervent kiss on his palm, she dropped her voice and added, "I won't ever be."

A slight shiver passed through the hand she held, and a very strange look appeared on his face. When Marian looked into his eyes, she saw something desperate, something pleading. He parted his thin, malleable lips to speak, but seemed to change his mind.

The moment stretched out, and Marian worried that she had made him uncomfortable. She decided to behave normally, in an effort to put him at ease and make him forget her ardent declaration, so she said ruefully, "I suppose I should get dressed."

Severus had been deeply affected by her actions of a few moments before, but he was a double agent, and it didn't take him long to appear to recover his lost equilibrium. He decided to turn the tables.

"Pity," he replied airily, with a sly glance at her.

"When did you become so wicked?" Marian asked archly, as she rose from the bed and reached to lift her travel bag, blushing at the fiery sensation of his eyes on her.

"When you started wearing things like_ that_," Severus answered, leaning back against the headboard and watching her with glittering eyes.

Marian paused mid-step, swallowing hard. "Would you like the bathroom first? I can change clothes just as easily out here," she rambled desperately, trying to regain her equilibrium. When had Severus Snape become so _seductive_? She realized that he had always had this sort of power over her, but at least he hadn't always _known_ it.

"If you're sure…" he asked, and when she nodded, swept the covers aside and rose to his feet in one decisive movement. Then he stalked towards the bathroom, waving his wand and summoning his clothes after him.

A while later, after they had switched places and finished dressing and washing up, they re-transfigured the sofa and enjoyed brunch together. Neither said much. Their impending separation weighed heavily on both their minds.

"Will you use a Portkey?" he finally asked diffidently, as he lowered his coffee mug and fixed her with an inquisitive stare.

"Yes. I couldn't Portkey into Hogwarts because of the wards, but I can certainly use one to go back to my own home. Portkeys aren't as restrictive as Apparition. Wards can keep you from Apparating in or out, but not even wards as powerful as the ones at Azkaban can do more than protect the site from Portkey incursions. But anyone with a Portkey can _escape_….The freedom of unauthorized Portkeys is a loophole that law enforcement has sought to close up for years, but certainly not something I have any interest in them achieving," Marian confided with a grin.

"I imagine not," he replied with a forced smile, but he seemed to have become rather brooding and withdrawn, just in the course of their meal.

Surprising herself, Marian blurted out, "I could stay, you know."

Slightly startled, he glanced over at her with an opaque look. "Stay here? As a prisoner languishing in my rooms? It would only be a matter of time before a house elf or someone else intruded and discovered you. No, Marian," and he gentled his vehement tones, "you must leave, and as soon as possible. Else, in my weakness, I might try to keep you here….Do not worry about me. After your visit, I think I will be able to hold on a little longer."

He smiled softly at her in a way that flooded her heart with love and concern for him.

"Promise me that you will look after your own life and that you won't take the Portkey off for any reason!" Marian said earnestly.

He favored her with a mocking look, but she sensed that it was directed against himself rather than her. "Are you not going to make me swear this time?" he asked ironically.

"Your word will be enough," she replied, firmly ignoring his barb.

He paused for a moment, assessing her in bemusement. "You have it," he answered finally, in rather clipped tones.

Marian placed her napkin on the tray, and Severus realized that her withdrawal was imminent. Suddenly, he rose to his feet and said abruptly, "I do not wish to witness your departure."

Severus stunned her by the desperate nature of his retreat, and had nearly made it through the door before she called out to him.

"One more thing….Do you think I might have a look at your Dark Mark?" she asked.

Furious, Severus spun about and exclaimed in strident, unguarded tones, "Marian, if you're trying to punish me-"

"No! Let me ask you, if the war was over, and the Dark Lord destroyed for good, would you like to be rid of the Mark?" she asked curiously.

He seemed a bit shell-shocked at the direction the conversation had turned. Approaching her, he rolled up his sleeve with violent, jerky motions that betrayed his inner turmoil. Severus answered in a cold, quiet voice that was almost a whisper, "Is that a rhetorical question? There is almost nothing I want more in the world than to be rid of this hideous Mark, the emblem of my shame, burning like hellfire whenever my services are required. After the Dark Lord's defeat several years ago, I tried to get rid of it by carving out all the marked flesh—it obviously didn't work."

At the mention of his trauma, Marian darted forward and reached for his arm instinctively, exclaiming, "Oh, my darling!" in dismay.

Caught, Marian froze and slowly met his eye. His held a gleam that was almost…triumphant. He raised an amused brow at her, and she said guiltily, "Oh, that's just an expression we use in the United States. It's like 'My goodness!' or 'What do you know!'"

"I thought you said you'd never lie to me," he murmured, much closer than before; in spite of everything, drawn to her as iron to a magnet.

"Then you mustn't ask questions to try to make me incriminate myself!" she said hotly, growing flustered by his proximity.

"I didn't ask you any questions," he whispered, his lips a hairsbreadth away from hers, and she sensed that she was about to lose herself all over again. Her soul, her magic, every drop of blood in her veins vibrated with joy at his nearness.

"Well, what kind of spy does that make you then?" she mumbled, barely coherent.

"The best," he breathed, and, as he was about to swoop down upon her in spite of his resolution to let her alone, a bell rang out in almost deafening peals, causing the silverware to clatter on the tray.

They both pulled away and blinked, as though just surfacing from deep water. Severus snarled. "Those bloody fools!" he exclaimed.

Marian looked at him quizzically and he explained, "I have a visitor. Someone is trying to access the headmaster's office. One of those contemptible Carrows, I'm sure….Go, Marian….Please," he was almost pleading with her.

"Very well," she answered with a deep, shuddering breath, "I won't be here when you return."

They glanced at each other and Marian had a desperate impulse to throw herself into his arms and cling to him. Before she could act, the bell rang again. She glanced at Severus and realized with a bittersweet knowledge that he had reassumed his impenetrable, inexorable mask. He stood regal and cool in his pooling robes, a proud portrait in blacks and whites that would linger in her mind always.

Instead of succumbing to the embrace she craved, or uttering the words of love that had sprung to her lips, Marian merely lifted one hand and placed it carefully against his chest over the Portkey. She bowed her head in sorrow, her long tresses spilling over her shoulders and down her back. She felt Severus grasp her shoulders and press his lips to her forehead in a lingering kiss, and then he turned and strode purposefully out of the room.

With her heart breaking, Marian turned a hairbrush into a Portkey. Minutes later, she had left Hogwarts and Severus behind her, not knowing when or if she would see them again.


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27: The Lost Spy

In spite of Marian's sadness, winter and spring passed quickly. Harry Potter proved to have an adept friend in Hermione Granger, and Marian was relieved to hear through her link that they had decided on their own to visit the LeStrange vault. It was a relief to her not to be forced to intervene. She kept busy enough with her research on the Dark Mark, and on all sorts of new and interesting curses that kept cropping up at St. Mungo's. It seemed that the Death Eaters had decided to branch out a bit—or else that they were able to curse far more people than they were used to, and had gotten bored with their favorites and had decided to use some of the other spells in their repertoire, simply for novelty's sake.

She spent a great deal of time with the Weasleys. Tonks and several other Order members tended to congregate at the Burrow, so Marian was able to receive news of Hogwarts and the war effort, in addition to having her spirits lifted by the good company. As far as Severus was concerned, she felt at least as alarmed about him as she had before her Christmas visit. Even though he wore the Portkey she had given him, she was nearly paralyzed by fear that something would go wrong. After all, when the Dark Lord had taken it into his head to kill in the past, no one but Harry had survived to tell the tale—and he had lived only to become a Horcrux. The boy still remained ignorant of his unhappy destiny. But she supposed that Severus would find a way to get word to him when the time was right, although the thought left a bitter taste in her mouth.

Her sleep was fitful, alternating between unsatisfying dreams, where she would see a flash of molten black eyes or hear a silky whisper, and she would awake filled with longing for Severus; and terrible nightmares, where he was suffering or dead and she was unable to help him. She tried to take her own preventative measures for nightmares, and sometimes they worked. But more often they didn't, and Marian realized that after sleeping in Severus' arms, nothing else would ever compare. She would always feel bereft without him. She loved her small puppy, and it pleased her when the warm, happy creature slept in the crook of her neck, but there was no real substitute for Severus—the cool, audacious wizard with his snide, clever ways and proud, loyal heart.

Harry's Horcrux hunt was proceeding, and long before she realized it or felt ready, the final battle was upon them. Marian had listened to her earpiece in concern when she heard Harry's plan to slip into Hogwarts through a secret passage in order to seek out one of the remaining two—three, if one counted Harry himself—horcruxes.

She had listened to the unfolding events with growing disquiet, and when she heard the confrontation between Severus and the other professors after Harry and his friends were discovered in Ravenclaw Tower, Marian gathered up some supplies and Flooed to the Burrow in a rush. The moment she popped out of the fireplace, she was greeted with pandemonium. Weasleys and Order members were scrambling around, heading outside for the Apparition point.

"It's finally happened!" one of twins called to her, "Harry is at Hogwarts, and everyone is gathering there to defy You-Know-Who!"

Her heart sank. It would be a very difficult thing to fight Voldemort's forces in a full-scale battle. The castle's defenders would be incredibly outnumbered. Marian only hoped that they stopped pussy-footing around and actually starting killing their enemies. Otherwise, this battle would end quickly and disastrously, and seal the fate of them all. Whether the Horcruxes were destroyed or not, they still had to contend with the Dark Lord himself and his entire army. After all, once Voldemort discovered that his Horcruxes were being smashed, he could always devise new ones—and she had no doubt that he would learn from his mistakes. If he was forced to make others, then it was almost certain that no one would ever find them.

Marian jogged towards the Apparition point at the edge of the property in an effort to catch up with the others, swearing to herself all the while. Guerilla warfare was much more her style. And she longed to discover what had happened to Severus after he had been forced to flee Hogwarts. She chuckled when she heard that he knew how to fly. He would never stop surprising her. Who could ever be bored with such a man?

Once she arrived on the grounds, she spotted Sirius, Remus, and Tonks and joined their small group. Most seemed rather grim, except for Sirius, who looked oddly exhilarated. She supposed that a life spent in prison would make even battle a welcome novelty.

She gave the others a knowing nod and followed them through the gates and up the steep, winding path to the castle. Fortified as it was, she feared that its defenders would be no match for the Dark Lord's hordes. And there were rumors that they would be fighting creatures far worse than wizards—giants, vampires, and perhaps trolls. She barely listened to Mad-Eye's rousing speech about how they needed to allow Harry Potter time to fulfill some mission that Dumbledore had given him. She knew all about that already.

Instead, she busied herself with looking around the Great Hall, taking in the lay of the land—all of the small windows and hidden alcoves. She had thought a lot about what Severus had said concerning the energy drain caused by multiple use of the Killing Curse, and so she focused all of her intelligence on developing a strategy.

Marian was pleased when her group was assigned to protect the Great Hall. Immediately, she slipped away from the others and chose a vantage point where she could see everything, in the corner of the raised dais where the professors had their dining area. When she passed by the headmaster's ornately carved chair, she gently stroked her fingers against the wooden armrest and thought about how the sleeve of Severus' robe must have draped across that very spot. Her heart clenched and she hurried along.

Once she leaned against the wall to wait, she began to realize how ideally situated her post actually was. She had keen eyesight and was able to see everything that went on in the whole gallery with very little difficulty. Marian spotted Sirius looking all around and wondered fleetingly if he was searching for her.

She remembered that Severus had said that he wouldn't be able to concentrate on the battle if she was there, and since she had no intention of missing the fight, had devised one part of her strategy in advance. To keep from being a distraction to her friends and the man she loved, she had brought Polyjuice with her. Marian realized that if anyone saw her Polyjuice herself that they would invariably draw the wrong conclusions, ascribing her transformation to cowardice. And it was true that she didn't wish to draw fire—she wasn't stupid. The Dark Lord's minions had been told not to tamper with her a year and a half ago, and if they saw her here fighting against them, it probably wouldn't go well for her.

Drinking down the draught and making a face, Marian immediately morphed into a mousy-haired, twitchy-looking girl in her late teens. Glancing down at herself, she decided to change her robes to make herself look even more vulnerable and unimportant. An idea was already forming in her mind. She would be a sniper of sorts. Marian kept her wand in her pocket, opting not to channel her magic through it that day. Instead, she transfigured one of the dinner knives that had been laid out by the house elves into a small scalpel, and cast a concealment charm on it.

And then she waited and worried. If Severus came out into the open, he would be met with hexes from everyone on her side. He was probably the most universally hated person after the Dark Lord himself. Marian also fretted about Harry. She heard him enter the Room of Requirement and discover the diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw, but then things had begun to go terribly wrong. Draco Malfoy and his two troll-like friends had come upon them there, and after a few moments she heard Ron scream out, "Fiendfyre!" And then there was nothing but chaos, as she stood white-faced, straining for any sound to indicate what was happening.

But suddenly a great voice boomed out over the entire castle, effectively drowning out her magical earpiece. Many of the hall's defenders trembled involuntarily at Lord Voldemort's deadly hiss borne on the air. He claimed that he didn't want to fight them and spill magical blood. The Dark Lord promised them all their lives if the castle's defenders would give up Harry Potter. He gave them until midnight.

Marian scoffed. No one would be so foolish as to believe him, although, from the commotion, it seemed as though a few Slytherin students were all in favor of handing Harry over, but McGonagall made short work of their protests, and sent them down to the dungeons with Filch. Marian shook her head in disbelief. Harry was their main chance. He was the only one that could possibly be a match for the Dark Lord. If Voldemort triumphed, all sorts of magical blood would be spilled—much had been spilled already, from what she had heard of the camps for Muggle-borns and Half-bloods. At that thought, the bloodlust bubbled up in her heart and she longed to do battle. _Let them come_.

And come they did, swarming against the gates, breaking their ranks against the ancient, powerful wards. But with the Dark Lord's tremendous ability and the Elder Wand, his forces were unstoppable. It did not take long for the fighting to move into the Great Hall, and then Marian set her plan in motion.

She levitated the invisible blade she had transfigured and had only to direct its course to cleanly slash throat after throat of the enemy. The Death Eaters thought it was a dark spell, not having any idea why random people in diverse parts of the room suddenly dropped in a spray of blood. No one suspected Marian, as she stood in the corner, looking the picture of innocence, aimlessly holding a wand that emitted no bursts of light from the tip. She looked like a frightened girl, a noncombatant. And few Death Eaters thought to bother with her. Her keen eyes kept a careful watch, and she especially guarded her friends, immediately disposing of whomever Tonks and the Weasleys were dueling.

She could hear Harry again, and gathered that he and his friends were still alive, and apparently had saved the Malfoy boy. Her heart leapt with joy when she realized that the fiendfyre unwittingly cast by Malfoy's goon had actually destroyed the Horcrux. Now there was only the snake—and Harry himself.

She felt as fresh as she'd ever felt, not even having to use any spells or curses. All she needed to do was keep out of danger herself and mentally direct her invisible, razor-sharp blade with the leisure that a Hogwarts student might have flown a levitated paper airplane. As she watched the combatants, picking off whatever Death Eater wandered into her line of sight, it suddenly occurred to her that her heritage had given her quite a leg up in the wizarding world.

A half-blood and an American, she had not been raised to uphold many wizarding customs. To her, the traditions existed in legend, rather than practice. She had no pre-conceived ideas, and to her, with magic, anything was possible. She had none of the other wizards' fixation with the Killing Curse, or with dueling rituals. This was also why she had chosen to learn magic without a wand. Because she hadn't been told since she was very young that it _just wasn't done_, she did it.

As Marian made wide, lazy sweeps with her blade, directing it with her eyes, she reflected that her success as a witch was mainly due to her upbringing, instead of her own cleverness and ability. She had the capacity to let logic and experience guide her, rather than a set of inherited directives, and logic often prompted her to take different paths than other wizards. She knew that Severus was a half-blood, and suspected that, despite his Hogwarts education, he had been raised in a non-wizarding home, because his ingenuity was undeniable. Marian knew he was powerful—terribly powerful, probably only surpassed by the Dark Lord, and possibly Harry Potter, and that he had limitless intelligence and creativity. But she secretly wondered if his heritage (or lack thereof, as the pure-bloods would say) had opened his mind so that he was able to develop these traits, as had been the case with her.

Marian suddenly noticed that there were many giant spiders in the great hall and she realized that her small knife would be of little use against the hideous things, considering the fact that she hadn't the slightest idea where to stab them in order to destroy them. She saw three of the Weasley boys take off down a side corridor and several Death Eaters follow them moments later. With a groan, she started after them. She could hear the boys up ahead. Their laughter echoed and she assumed that they must have reached a more open space. And clearly, they had yet to spot the sinister-looking men behind them. Marian hurried forward, magically muffling her footsteps, and kept her small invisible blade hovering along beside her.

All at once, an explosion rocked the masonry and nearly tossed her off her feet. She cursed viciously, realizing that one of the Death Eaters was using an explosive hex. He could bring down the whole room if he wasn't careful. Marian leapt forward, surprising five Death Eaters and the three Weasleys. She immediately sent her blade to the throat of the one whose wand was raised. The others realized at once that she was the source of his bloody death and their eyes narrowed. Marian understood that none of these must be allowed to escape with the knowledge of her highly successful manner of killing, and attacked the man beside him. She dodged a flash of green light and was poised to attack the next person, when she grasped that the other three lay dead.

The Weasley twins and the other brother—Percy, she thought his name was—nodded to her shakily. The hood of one of the Death Eaters had fallen back and Marian recognized Pius Thicknesse, the puppet Minister.

"Whoa, mate! You just killed the Minister of Magic," one of the twins called to the other.

His brother grinned wearily in response. Suddenly, Harry and Hermione tore around the other corner and raised their wands at Marian. The dust and debris in the air made it difficult to tell who was who, but they were still relatively certain they had never seen Marian's polyjuiced persona before.

"It's alright. She's one of us!" Fred called out.

They lowered their wands and cocked their heads at her, trying to take in the scene in front of them. Marian took the opportunity to ask them raspingly, "Have you seen Severus Snape?"

Harry looked at her curiously, but appeared not to be able to place her voice. "Not yet. It looks like the coward is staying out of the action. But he won't be able to hide forever," he replied ominously.

Marian nodded and turned away. She had made it nearly back to the Great Hall when she heard the same terrible voice over the echoes of battle. The substance of Voldemort's message was much the same as the last, only this time he directed his challenge to Harry himself. He sneered at him for letting his friends die in his stead and proclaimed an armistice of one hour, during which they would have leave to gather their dead unmolested. If Harry hadn't turned himself over to him in the Forbidden Forest at that time, then he would destroy the castle defenders to the last man, woman and child.

Marian shivered. Now that Harry had disposed of all the Horcruxes except the snake, Voldemort's constant companion, she feared very much that he would accept this challenge. In fact, she felt certain that he would, and even though the thought devastated her, she could think of no logical reason to dissuade him from the meeting.

By the time she reached the Great Hall, the invaders had all retreated back to the school's boundaries. She could feel her Polyjuice wearing off, but decided not to bother taking another swig. She hardly saw the point. If Harry fell, and Voldemort was able to harness the power of the Unbeatable Wand, then she and the others would be forced to fight to extinction. Her appearance would hardly matter then. But hopefully, their luck would change and something would go right when the two powerful wizards faced off. She didn't want to have to fight anymore. Marian had had her fill of blood. She didn't know how many she had killed—dozens; it was hard to tell.

During the break in the fighting, she milled about; using the spells she had studied lately to help with the wounded. Even though no battling was taking place at the moment, the cavernous room was still filled with a horrible clamor. She tried to ignore the cries of agony coming from the victims of awful spells, as well as the weeping for the injured and the dead. She found her experience as a St. Mungo's specialist invaluable, and moved from sufferer to sufferer. She recognized many of the curses she had broken in the past months and was able to quickly relieve the victims of their agony. Those that she lacked the skill to help, she constructed Portkeys for, and sent them whisking away to the emergency ward at St. Mungo's.

While she kept busy with the injured, she barely saw her friends, except when she was called upon to heal some very nasty gashes that Remus had sustained. He grimly told her that Snape had invented the curse that had hit him, but he needn't have bothered. She already recognized the signs of a glancing Sectumsempra, and Severus had told her all about it, including how to counter it. She soon caused the flesh to reknit, but the wizard remained very weak. She highly regretted that she hadn't brought more blood-replenisher. She had only carried four vials of it, and had used them all already. Remus would survive, but until he was infused with more blood, he would be too weak to be of any use once the fighting resumed, which could be at any moment. She had completely lost track of time.

Marian happened to glance up and spotted a very shaken Harry heading in the direction of the headmaster's office. She was surprised and relieved to see that he was still in the castle. She had thought that he would have made his way to the forest by then, but apparently he still had business to attend to. His walk was very purposeful, and he didn't glance to the left or the right, so she was unable to catch his eye.

A while later, though she wasn't sure exactly how much time had slipped by, the terrible voice made another announcement. She stilled at once, not believing the words, which proclaimed that the doom she had feared was upon them all. Voldemort's high, cold tones echoed triumphantly throughout the partially-crumbling castle, proclaiming Harry Potter's death. He said that they had caught and killed him while he was attempting to flee the fighting. The Dark Lord declared the battle over and claimed that his Death Eaters greatly outnumbered the defenders. He ordered them to come out and kneel before him, promising horrible retribution to those that refused.

"No," she breathed, and stepped away from the man she had just relieved of a terrible burning hex.

As one, the defenders moved mechanically towards the main doors, heading out into the courtyard, unable to resist the compulsion to see if things were truly as bad as they sounded. Marian wandered with the others, threading her way through piles of rubble and corpses. She was surprised to see the sun beginning to rise in the east. She felt that the terrible things she had seen could only have taken place under the cover of darkness.

The Dark Lord approached and Marian realized that this was the first time she had seen him during the course of the battle. She wondered where he had been hiding. Hagrid, the half-giant, followed behind him, and Voldemort's servants flooded about their master in a vast sea of leering faces and loosely-held wands. Hagrid carried something small and still and even before she was able to get a good look, she realized that the bundle was Harry Potter.

Someone gasped beside her, and she saw that it was Sirius. Smeared with dirt and blood, Sirius' face bore an expression of grief so terrible and profound that she was forced to look away from him. Her own sorrow was nearly too much for her to bear. She peered at the Death Eaters beside the Dark Lord and recognized Bellatrix LeStrange and several others, but could catch no glimpse of Severus Snape. Where was he? He should be there at the Dark Lord's right hand as his foremost lieutenant.

She felt rather than saw Sirius begin to rush forward, and grasped his arm to stop him. He turned towards her, livid, but Marian shook her head. "Wait," she mouthed.

Many things started happening at once. As soon as the Order members and the students that had been a part of Dumbledore's army recognized Harry's body, a terrible clamor went up. The Dark Lord called for silence, but Marian barely listened to his words, instead focusing on the snake that currently coiled around his shoulders. It was out in the open, unprotected, and she could have sworn that it had blood on its muzzle. Suddenly, she let go of Sirius and began pushing people aside on her way to the front, intent on killing the Horcrux. But many things happened to prevent her from carrying out her plan.

Before she could reach the first rank, she looked through a gap and saw with horror that a boy wore a hat that had been set on fire. But he managed to escape the flames, and she realized that he grasped a sword in his hand—a sword she recognized, because it had not been many months since she had delivered it to Harry Potter, guiding him to it with her Patronus. But the boy that wielded it now was not Harry, or even Ron. He was tall and handsome, and she was relatively certain that she had never seen him before.

All at once, Harry stirred and slowly rose to his feet. As the multitude took notice that he was still alive, there were deafening shouts on both sides. Everything moved very quickly, and the boy with the sword took the opportunity to dart forward nimbly and strike off the head of the snake. She felt herself pressed backwards, borne helplessly back into the entrance hall by the tide of people. It just so happened that when the pushing stopped and she was able to catch her breath, she was situated in a conspicuous position, right on the outskirts of the clearing. She had tried to move up to the first rank earlier, and now that she found herself there, was far from pleased over the situation. The Dark Lord glanced over the crowd and suddenly noticed her, and his slit-eyes burned with cold fury.

"_You_ here? Among my enemies! I should have given you to Severus, so that he might enjoy his last days. Treacherous women are fit only for slavery," the Dark Lord spat cruelly.

"His last days?" Marian inquired hesitatingly, her voice cracking.

"I killed him three hours ago in the Shrieking Shack," Voldemort replied dismissively, before adding, "But if I spared you once, I certainly will not make the same mistake twice. Your silver tongue will not avail you, any more than Severus Snape's availed him."

Marian hardly took notice of his words and stood frozen, completely shell-shocked. She felt vaguely conscious of being shoved aside, and of all sorts of spells being fired in her vicinity. She realized that Harry and the Dark Lord were dueling, and that this final showdown would determine the outcome of the war, but she hardly cared.

_I killed him three hours ago._ The words echoed in her soul like a death knell. And then Marian rose to her feet, ignoring the dueling going on all around her, moving like a zombie towards the main entrance. She exited into the courtyard a second time, stumbling and running.

_I killed him three hours ago._ Marian remembered the Shrieking Shack. She had often seen it when strolling the outskirts of Hogsmeade. Unaware of the secret entrance, she tore down the hill towards the gates of Hogwarts, destroying everything in her path with vicious nonverbal Sectumsempras, in honor of Severus. At this point, she felt no compunction over denying her enemies a quick death.

The moment she reached the gate, she Apparated to the entrance of the Shrieking Shack. It suddenly occurred to her that she ought to have changed to her Animagus form to save time, and she cursed herself for her stupidity. If she only transformed more often, perhaps the idea would have occurred to her sooner.

Marian approached the front door of the shack, but found it unusable. Filled with horror and anguish, she saw that the windows were blocked out as well. She thought about causing an explosion to gain entrance, but didn't dare do it in case Severus was still alive and she injured him. And so Marian began magically disassembling the door, piece by piece, and before long, she had a sizeable pile of lumber beside her. It appeared that the doorway had been blocked on the inside by more wood and some sort of heavy furniture. Nearly frantic over the delay, she fought her way into the house, clambering through the hole she had made and tearing her cloak on a nail in the process. She supposed that there must be another entrance, but she had been unable to find it quickly and dared not waste more time seeking it.

As she entered the gloomy place, Marian warily summoned a bluish ball of light to glide ahead of her. "Severus?" she called softly.

There was no answer, and the dismal, dusty surroundings pressed in on her like a tomb. The wallpaper had been shredded by something sharp—possibly claws, and the meager furniture lay in battered heaps about the rundown rooms. Suddenly, her foot slipped a bit and she glanced down. What she saw made her heart nearly stop. Something _had_ happened here. The Dark Lord had not bluffed. The floor was coated with copious amounts of crimson liquid, obviously blood. She could see the place where someone had lain on the ground because the dust was disturbed. Even though Marian scrabbled around and looked in every hiding place she could think of, she could discover no body, or even any signs of crawling or limping. Whoever had fallen there had not stirred under his own power.

A violent shudder racked through her, and then suddenly she saw the way Severus must have entered. A dark tunnel lay ahead of her. Filled with renewed hope, she raced forwards, hoping desperately to find the man she sought. "Severus, _please_!" she cried out in agony.

Marian knew that he had not activated his Portkey. Her ring had never alerted her, and she had no doubt that it would have gotten her attention. The burning, tightening sensation would be very difficult to ignore. She had designed it to send a warning so powerful that it would distract her even in the heat of battle.

Marian ran through the tunnel, which wasn't particularly long, looking for any sign of blood on the floor or walls. She found dark stains, but they appeared far from fresh, and certainly didn't match the dripping puddle she had just trodden in. As the distraught witch ascended the gently sloping tunnel, she wondered what might have happened. Had the Dark Lord killed him without warning, before he was able to activate his Portkey? But that was hardly his _modus operandi_. More likely, Severus had stubbornly held his ground in an attempt to convince the Dark Lord to allow him to speak to Harry one last time, and had been murdered trying to talk his way out. But if that was the case, what had become of the body? Surely not the snake...no, that was impossible. She would have noticed had it been bloated.

Feeling the beginning of hysterics, Marian exited the tunnel into the morning light. To her consternation, she found herself beset by violently whipping branches and grasped immediately that she had emerged from beneath the Whomping Willow. It took three different immobilizing spells, but eventually she managed to freeze the wild, vicious limbs long enough to escape beyond their reach. She looked about her, and saw no body on the ground here either.

Squaring her shoulders, Marian decided to return to the castle. Someone had moved Severus Snape. It might have been the Dark Lord, but it might have been someone else, and she was going to find out whom. The grounds were strangely quiet. Every now and then she saw a spider or a hooded figure slip quietly away from Hogwarts and into the woods, but she took no notice.

As she got closer, she began to have misgivings about the outcome of the war, and approached the great marble steps carefully, astounded that she hadn't been accosted yet. Either one side had completely routed the other, or there was still complete chaos inside. The castle, once glorious, had fallen to its knees with the explosions and damage caused by the giants, but she thought that it might not be impossible to rebuild. Even devastated by the battle that had taken place, Marian felt that it had lost none of its dignity and grandeur.

When she slipped inside the vast, brightly-lit hall, she felt that she was still in the open air, and she truly was, for a large amount of the wonderful ceiling that had mimicked the sky had been destroyed. It became immediately apparent who the victors were, as she saw face after face that she recognized, looking solemn but glad. Tonks and Remus caught sight of her and beckoned her over. Marian passed the tables where the survivors dined, mixed together at random. The variegated assembly contained centaurs, house elves and other magical creatures besides the wizards and witches.

"Who did we lose?" Marian asked, "Is Harry…"

"Harry is alive, as are Sirius, Hermione, and all of the Weasleys. We lost thirty people and three house elves. One of the fallen was a former student of mine—a little boy named Colin Creevey," Remus answered solemnly.

"I'm sorry," she replied, and then, after she had paused for a decent length of time, asked in a rush, "Has anyone seen Severus Snape?"

His looked at her pityingly and answered gently, "Marian, Voldemort claimed that he killed Severus."

"I went to the Shrieking Shack and found blood, but no body," she confessed hurriedly.

Tonks tentatively placed a hand on her shoulder and said, "Perhaps you could talk to Hermione. She's right over there, and she, Harry and Ron saw it happen."

"Thank you," she answered, striding over to Hermione, who looked much thinner and older since the last time she had seen her.

Marian wasted no time, but touched Hermione's sleeve and cast a Muffliato. The teenage girl turned towards her and an expression of gladness took the place of the weariness that had been there moments before. "I didn't know what happened to you after you—I mean, Voldemort recognized you during the battle. I was afraid that one of his minions had killed or captured you," Hermione said with relief.

"No, I'm alright, and I'm so glad you are too….But tell me, what happened to Severus Snape? Is he still alive?" Marian asked, with a desperate gleam in her eyes.

Hermione bowed her head and told her story. "Harry looked into Voldemort's mind and saw that he and Nagini were in the Shrieking Shack, and that he had sent Lucius Malfoy to bring Professor Snape to him. We—Harry, Ron, and I—entered through the secret entrance under the Whomping Willow and came out behind a large pile of crates. Voldemort and Professor Snape were there, and I think Professor Snape saw us. We were very close to them. That horrible snake was floating around in a magical cage and Voldemort was complaining to the professor that his wand wasn't working for him properly. It was the wand he had taken from Headmaster Dumbledore, you know, and he thought that Professor Snape had become its true master when he killed him. He—he believed that he would not be able to fully harness its power until he took Professor Snape's life.

"Professor Snape kept interrupting him, pleading that he would go and get Harry for him. Voldemort grew angry, and suddenly he sent the snake and its cage down on him. It…it was awful. He screamed, and Voldemort said something in parseltongue. The snake struck Professor Snape three times, in the throat, and then he fell down. There was so much blood….Are you alright?" Hermione asked hesitantly.

Tears streamed down Marian's cheeks, but she nodded and choked out, "Please...tell me what happened next."

Hermione watched her dubiously, and suddenly waved her wand to mutter the Notice-Me-Not Spell over them both. Marian's tears were beginning to draw attention from those seated next to them, although she was by no means the only one grieving in Hogwarts. She nodded her head in thanks.

Hermione took a breath and continued, "Well, he fell to the ground and Voldemort said, 'I regret it' and left the Shrieking Shack without a second glance. I was glad when he took his snake with him, because it looked like…it looked like it wanted to stay to eat him. I was so frightened. We came out of hiding, and even though we didn't know at the time that he was really Dumbledore's man, we wanted to help him, because it really was a wretched way to die.

"Harry tried to staunch the bleeding, but memories began leaking out of Professor Snape. I thought they were tears at first—they were bluish-silver. He told Harry to take them. I summoned a vial and we collected the strands of memory, and then the professor's hand thudded to the floor. It was obvious that he was about to die, and I wanted to stay, but he said, 'Go', and so we left. He was always so authoritative, and we didn't think to disobey….Marian, he died there—it must have been moments after we left. We went back to the castle and passed Lucius Malfoy, but he didn't seem to notice us.

"Harry took the memories and viewed them in the Pensieve. That's how we know that he was on our side all along. It's a pity that a man with such incredible abilities lived such a miserable life and died an even more miserable death. It was truly tragic," this last she said quietly, sorrowfully.

Hermione had been forced to grow up very fast, and her wise brown eyes took in the anguish that her words had caused the older witch.

Marian swiped the tears off her cheeks with her hand and demanded clarification. "So his body was still there when you left?" she asked urgently.

Hermione nodded and murmured, "I'm sorry, Marian. I truly am."

Distraught, she turned away from the girl, not knowing which way to go, and happened to see three blond heads in a small huddle, away from all the others. Could it really be…?

Marian glanced down at herself and restored her original, more fashionable robes, having no more use for the disguise she had worn when polyjuiced. She approached the trio with dignity, wondering that they sat here with the other victors and weren't being held in chains. After all, it had always been fairly obvious which side Lucius Malfoy was on.

"Excuse me, Mr. Malfoy," she called quietly, and the three whipped their heads around with uneasy, startled expressions. The unhappy aristocrat met her eyes with haunted silver ones, and he looked even more disheveled and stressed than he had the day she had seen him at his manor, Voldemort's erstwhile headquarters.

"Yes?" he asked hoarsely.

"I'm looking for Severus Snape," she returned readily.

His eyes darted back and forth like a hunted animal's, but when he replied, his tone had much more polish and hauteur. Clearly, he realized that he possessed information that she wanted, and was in a position of power, in spite of his current precarious standing with regard to the outcome of the war.

"Why?" he drawled coolly.

Marian had no time for games and decided to level with the man. She figured that the Malfoys owed Severus for taking the Unbreakable Vow to protect Draco. It was unlikely that they were his enemies. "He is my friend," she responded fervently, "and I am afraid for him. I went to the Shrieking Shack and couldn't find his body. If there is any chance that he is still alive, I would move heaven and earth to help him."

Lucius tilted his head, blond locks falling into his grime-streaked face, and gazed at her pensively for a moment. His wife and son said nothing, merely watching curiously. Finally he responded, "When I was sent by the Dark Lord…"

He paused, as if uncertain as to whether he was permitted to say 'Dark Lord' anymore, but swiftly continued, "to bring Severus to him, I had the feeling that something wasn't right. And so I waited outside, a little distance from the tree to see if the Dark Lord had further instructions for me. I saw the Potter boy and his two friends enter the tunnel, and then the Dark Lord and Nagini exited, paying me no attention. They were followed shortly after by the children, which surprised me. I thought they had gone in to surrender. But there was no sign of Severus.

"I went inside and found him gasping in his own blood—the victim of that horrid snake. I did a makeshift repair on his artery and gave him a blood-replenisher. Then I Apparated him to St. Mungo's. As soon as the healers approached, I was forced to leave. I was in my Death Eater regalia, you know. Anyway, I know that he received medical attention, but whether it came in time or not, I cannot say. He looked very near death when I found him. His throat was torn so badly that he was unable to swallow. I had to deposit the replenisher directly into his stomach….I could see that his black eyes were very nearly fixed in death. He did not recognize me and could not speak," Lucius finished.

Suddenly, another thought occurred to him and he said, "You _seem_ genuine, but if Severus is somehow still alive and you seek to kill him, know that you will suffer my undying hate."

In spite of her horror at his account of Severus' condition, Marian felt gratitude well up inside her and grasped his well-manicured hand. "Thank you! And I would never hurt Severus. _Ever_."

She stepped back and looked at the family in front of her. "You were Death Eaters, and you will have a hard time of things for a while. But a friend of Severus Snape's is a friend of mine. Whether he is alive or dead, I will repay your kindness on his behalf," Marian told them steadfastly.

The three watched her leave with varying reactions. Lucius' eyes held skepticism; Narcissa's, interested discovery; and Draco's held hope.


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28: Out of Azkaban

When Marian entered St. Mungo's, she dodged the legions of visitors and healers, pinning her 'Specialist' badge to her lapel as she walked. She proceeded to the elevator, but instead of heading to the Spell Damage ward on the fourth floor, her usual haunt, she exited at the first floor, which was designated for Creature-Induced Injuries. She had come here often when Arthur Weasley was a patient.

There was a long line at the reception desk, and Marian could tell that these were mostly distraught relatives of those wounded at Hogwarts. So even though she could have bypassed the queue and was burning with impatience, she decided to wait quietly. After all, many of these people had the same question as her. They wanted to know whether the ones they loved were alive or dead.

After an interminable wait, she finally reached the desk, and made sure that her badge was visible to the harried receptionist. Her eyes opened wide and she asked, "What can I do for you, Ms. Oliver?"

"I'm looking for a patient named Severus Snape. I heard he was admitted here earlier," Marian said authoritatively.

At the mention of the notorious Death Eater, the young woman stiffened. "Yes," she said slowly, "Someone did deposit him here a few hours ago."

"Is he alive? What happened to him?" Marian asked urgently.

Some of the onlookers began murmuring. She could hear one man mutter belligerently, "We're here waiting for news about _patriots_ that may be alive or dead. And she's up there asking about You-Know-Who's right-hand man."

The woman, Krystle, suddenly motioned her to one side and a double chime went off somewhere in the distance. At once, a healer she had never seen before popped over, his lime green lab coat smeared with an unknown substance. He seemed the age of a Hogwarts student, but had an air of one that knew his craft.

"Come with me, Ms. Oliver," he said courteously, leading her down a brightly-lit corridor and away from listening ears.

"What can you tell me about Severus Snape?" Marian repeated her inquiry, growing more and more agitated.

"Well, he was brought in very near death. Had been attacked by some sort of serpent—it must have been enormous. The damage to his neck and chest was…extensive. Almost immediately after he arrived, we began getting floods of other patients, people sent over from Hogwarts. He was last priority—being a Death Eater and all, you understand. We sort of shunted him to one side after we placed a powerful stasis charm on his wounds. And then that Ministry official showed up and told us that any Death Eaters were to be sent directly to Azkaban, and so that's where we shipped him," the small wizard related in cool, businesslike tones.

"Do you think he will live?" she asked, her whole being hanging on the answer to her question.

He tilted his close-cropped blond head and answered, "No, not more than three or four days, at most. But then again, I don't think he's_ meant_ to live long. Between you and me, we just patched him up enough to survive until his trial, which is going to be rushed. He will be the first to be judged by the newly-created War Crimes Tribunal. The Ministry wants the wizarding world to see justice done. They want him to be punished, not to die on his own."

She nodded slowly. "Who is in charge of this tribunal?" she asked, her voice trembling with loathing. The war had barely been over for the past few hours and the Ministry had been under Voldemort's control earlier in the day. Whoever had scraped this committee together had not fought in the battle, but was an opportunist of the first order that had stayed behind to spin webs for personal advancement.

She was not really surprised when he answered, "Why, the same official that sent Snape off to Azkaban—a Ms. Dolores Umbridge. She used to head up the Muggle-born Registration Commission, but once she heard that You-Know-Who had been defeated, she realized that it was passé and no longer politically correct. So she decided that there would soon be a need for a War Crimes Tribunal and carried a motion to change the occupation of the committee, effectively making sure that she kept her position of power," the man said in a sardonic tone. Obviously, he didn't like her either.

"How do you know all this?" Marian asked, impressed.

He made a face as though he was remembering the taste of something especially sour and responded drily, "She told me herself when she came to see about Snape. It was obvious that she intends him to be the benchmark of her career—if he lives long enough."

With those words, he laughed loudly, and Marian detected a hint of hysteria in his laughter. Obviously, this man had seen far more horrors today than he was used to.

"It's past time for me to get back to work. Is there anything else you wanted to know?" he asked politely, but his voice was strained, and Marian realized that the only reason he had spent this much time with her was because of the badge she wore, denoting that she outranked him in the hospital hierarchy.

"Only one more thing," she asked pensively, "This stasis charm—is it guaranteed to keep him alive for three days?"

He laughed again and said, "Not a chance! It isn't guaranteed to do anything like that. All it does is prevent the wounds from bleeding or getting contaminated. He could still die of the damage to the rest of his body. I didn't examine him personally, but it's very likely that he could aspirate from the blood he inhaled; his windpipe could be punctured; his heart could give out; the snake venom already in his bloodstream could begin to liquefy his organs; he could die of infection or simple blood loss. In other words, that Committee had better act fast if they want to display the wizarding world's greatest traitor in their triumph."

Marian was about to hotly retort that Severus wasn't a traitor, but she reflected that this was not the proper venue to exonerate him. So she merely thanked Healer…Roberts, according to his nametag, and headed outside, trying to get away from the crowds before her eyes were blinded by tears. Marian paced for a while, trying to stop shaking long enough to Apparate.

Once she reached her home, she conjured a fire and stepped quickly through the Floo to her American house, where she was greeted by a delighted puppy. Marian reached down and disabled the portkey on Ms. Bear's harness, and then, on second thought, removed the harness entirely. The pretty little creature liked to be free. Whenever Marian planned to do anything risky, she equipped the puppy with a portkey that would take her to the Burrow, if she wasn't back in a certain timeframe. She couldn't bear the idea of the little dog trapped in the secret-kept house, dying of thirst or starvation.

Marian sank down onto the floor, and the small animal climbed into her lap. She seemed to sense her despair, and gave her a commiserating lick on the hand. For a while, Marian sat in a stupor, castigating herself for not being quicker and rescuing him at the hospital, where it would be far easier to get to him than Azkaban. She even blamed him for not portkeying away the moment the Dark Lord wanted to be alone with him—but even in blaming him for that she really blamed herself, because if he _had_ portkeyed to America, he would have had no way of getting back to the battle in time to tell Harry what he must do. She should have thought further ahead.

But finally, she began to think more rationally, realizing that if she didn't come up with an excellent plan quickly, the man she loved would die a miserable death—whether of his injuries alone in a cold cell, murdered by guards or prisoners, or propped up half-dead in a kangaroo court, the extent of his wounds concealed by a glamour as he was sentenced to the Dementor's Kiss. No matter what, Marian thought with steely resolve, she would remove him from Azkaban. Living or dead, he would not stay in that hideous place a moment longer than she could help.

The only person that had seen evidence of Snape's true loyalties was Harry Potter. He had influence enough to help her, if she could reach him. But therein lay the problem. Tonks had mentioned that Harry was going to go away for a day or two; somewhere he could mourn for the dead and not be bothered by reporters. Marian had a sneaking suspicion that Umbridge knew more than she let on. The woman had probably heard by now that Snape wasn't guilty. After all, _everyone_ was talking about how Harry had announced Snape's innocence to Voldemort during their duel.

But if Umbridge rushed Severus' trial while Harry was out of town, he would be sentenced to the Dementor's Kiss—especially if he was in such terrible condition that he would be incapable of calling witnesses to his defense. And there was another possibility, an equally sinister one. Umbridge might have had him removed from the hospital to Azkaban so that he wouldn't be able to receive medical treatment, so that he would die of his injuries before Harry could exonerate him. Marian would put nothing past her.

The beginnings of a plan were already forming in her mind, plans for a rescue—and a revenge. She would waste no time searching for Harry. She had faintly heard him saying his goodbyes earlier when she had gone over to speak to the Malfoys. It would probably take hours to track him down, and she would be forced to interact with lots of her friends in the process, which would delay her. Also, there was no guarantee that even Harry would be able to retrieve Severus in time. The Ministry bureaucrats might try to put him off. She knew from experience exactly how endless government red tape could be. No, she must rely on herself. Every moment counted and she determined not to waste a single one. She couldn't abide the thought of being reminded every day for the rest of her lonely life that she hadn't done absolute everything in her power to keep Severus Snape alive. The regret would be far too crushing for her to bear.

She still had plenty of the Polyjuice that Severus had given her. A lump formed in her throat as she remembered how he had sent such a generous supply—far more than she could possibly use. And he had made it all himself when he had had no time to spare even for rest. How she loved him!

But Marian put herself to work. She knew that her scheme couldn't proceed until she had created a portkey like the one she had given Severus. It would have fewer bells and whistles, but would need to be very subtle indeed to get through Azkaban security.

She had always been rather good at compartmentalizing, and focused on her task with an intensity that crossed over the threshold of obsession. She had written down the incantations, so she did not operate by trial and error as she had last time. Before long, the portkey was complete. She had been afraid to use a piece of jewelry as a trigger, because she had never been to a wizards' prison before, but had heard that in its Muggle counterpart no metal was allowed around the inmates—even on visitors.

And so Marian settled on a brassiere. Surely she would be allowed to keep _that_ on, she thought with a smirk. And the best part about her portkey was that she would be able to transfigure it to fit a larger or smaller woman, and that it would lose none of its properties. This did many of the same things as the pendant she had given Severus for Christmas, and so it took many hours to weave the spells together. Even though she saved time by making the portkey for a one-time use only, she lost what little she had gained by building in the flexibility that would allow it to be transfigured. She also added a feature that was standard in portkeys for the elderly, providing a gentle landing, with none of the conventional crazy spinning about.

When she was finished, she considered grabbing a couple of hours of sleep, because her task would be considerably easier in the morning, but couldn't justify wasting a single moment. A minute lost could mean the life of Severus Snape. She thought very hard, and finally came up with a possible solution.

Marian had several hairs meticulously labeled in her collection of disguises. Most had come from innocuous Muggles, but not all. Choosing one carefully and dropping it into the glass of potion, she quickly drank it down and emerged a wizened old crone with bleary, bluish eyes.

Satisfied with her appearance, she left her wand on the table and reattached Ms. Bear's portkey harness. The puppy eyed her with consternation, but before she could begin barking at the intruder, Marian exited through the fireplace. Once she landed in Britain, it took only moments to return to Diagon Alley. There were spacious houses on the hill above the street in the opposite direction of Knockturn Alley, and Marian had a hunch that the venomous reporter for the _Daily Prophet_, Rita Skeeter, called one of these home. These cushy bungalows mostly belonged to Ministry officials and celebrities of the British wizarding community. Several were those of professional quidditch players, and Molly had pointed out on more than one occasion that one of the houses, a large pink and cream confection, was one of the residences of her favorite songstress, Celestina Warbeck.

It was very easy to find people in the wizarding world, as long as their houses weren't secret-kept, that is. And few were. Most people enjoyed the companionship of visitors far too much to take such a drastic step. Generally, only recluses and those wanted by the law chose to rely on more than simple wards and their own wands for security.

So all one needed to do in order to find someone was to write a letter, scrawl the name of the person in question on the envelope, and give it to an owl to deliver. Owls in the wizarding world had the uncanny knack for finding absolutely _anyone_. Then there was nothing left but to follow the bird. And Marian had the advantage of being able to fly in her Animagus form, so it was extremely likely that she would manage to tail it to its destination.

It had been a long time since Marian had seen Dolores Umbridge's handwriting. The only occasion had been when a house elf had delivered a note to Marian while she was searching for 'cursed objects' at Hogwarts, but she remembered that the writing had seemed pathetically contrived to her. Channeling her inner pink bows and ruffles, Marian wrote a note with loopy, exaggerated letters and random curlicues. Satisfied, she walked into the post office. She had expected to find it open until dark, and the sun was setting later and later these days. It felt like a lifetime since the battle had ended at daybreak. Many terrible and wonderful things had taken place in that fleeting amount of time.

She chose a small, weak-looking owl and sent it off with her message. Ducking into the shadows, she quickly shifted her shape and followed, hoping for a short flight, but fearing the worst. With the way her luck had been lately, it wouldn't have surprised her if Rita lived all the way over in France. But it seemed that her hopes were to be rewarded, because all at once the owl banked in the air and began his descent, obviously aiming for a large, tacky and ostentatious mansion on the hill directly behind Gringotts.

Marian swiftly put the next phase of her plan into motion, unhesitatingly dive-bombing the unsuspecting messenger bird. She clipped its wing on her descent and it gave a loud, frightened squawk. She was much quicker than the little owl, which she had rightly judged to be rather sickly and weak, and veered around at a drunken, dangerous speed, this time aiming straight for it. The bird was petrified with fear and its talons convulsed, releasing the missive, in an effort to struggle for more height, to get out of Marian's strike path. The poor thing looked so scared and ridiculous that she felt a little sorry for it, but Severus was more important than an owl's hurt pride. Besides, if Marian had gone up against some of its larger cousins that she had seen in the parcel-delivery section, things might have gone the opposite way.

Once the bird relinquished the note, Marian immediately let it alone, allowing it to go back to its roost and sulk. She had eyes only for her message. Marian had approached Severus' window six months ago in her Animagus form, which had almost had disastrous consequences for her, but at least the tactic was familiar by now. Marian flew around the house, peering in all the lighted windows, of which there were many. She wondered if that awful Skeeter woman was entertaining guests.

At last, she spotted her, laughing and cavorting in the kitchen with a middle-aged man that had jowls that could have doubled as a wineskin in the desert—although he looked to be using them for that very purpose in the comfort and seclusion of Rita Skeeter's home. From the fine quality of his robes, he obviously had money, and probably power—or at possessed information on people that did. Marian wanted to smirk every time Rita laughed her artificial laugh and exaggeratedly tossed her head, ruffling the platinum, waxy-looking curls that she took such pride in.

Deciding to act while they still had their clothes on, although what the reporter was wearing could hardly be dubbed 'clothes' per se, she rapped decisively with her beak against the glass.

"I'll only be a moment, sugarplum. Pour me another," she cooed to her companion, before traipsing over to the window and sticking her round, heavily-painted face out into the night air. Marian dropped the letter on the sill, and then struck quickly, pecking the woman once sharply on the head, pulling out several hairs in the process. "Ow!" Rita shrieked, in outrage and pain, but Marian had already soared halfway down the hill by that time. She didn't feel the slightest bit of remorse for bopping her on the head. The malicious woman deserved far worse after all the libel she had printed over the years. No matter what happened, she never seemed to learn her lesson.

Even after Hermione had imprisoned her in a jar and then blackmailed her into reporting facts rather than slander, Rita had gone back to her old ways at the first opportunity. Marian had heard that she had been writing two 'histories', and that the outcome of the final battle would determine which one she sent to her publisher. One glorified the Death Eaters and vilified Harry, while the other praised the heroics of 'The Boy-Who-Lived'. Allegedly. But even if that rumor didn't turn out to be true, everyone believed it, because it exemplified the kind of woman that Rita Skeeter was. Marian understood that sooner or later the cold-hearted witch would write something cruel about Severus, and when that day came, she knew that the woman would become her enemy, and that Rita would wish for a mere pecking.

But Rita Skeeter was only a pawn in Marian's scheme. She could imagine her back at her house, reading the short note and complaining about the poor manners of the delivery bird. Marian glanced around and then landed, snickering to herself. The note had been short, just something to tie Skeeter and Umbridge together, because she meant to play them against each other in the end. It had read:

Ms. Skeeter,

I have the story you've been looking for.

Dolores Umbridge

Marian knew that Skeeter would recognize Umbridge by reputation for the terrible power she wielded in the Ministry, in spite of her many failures—most notably, her ignominious retreat from Hogwarts after her less-than-successful stint as headmistress. Interestingly enough, and humiliatingly for Umbridge, the same castle that found Severus Snape worthy and allowed him access to the headmaster's office had denied it to her. There was also the stigma related to serving as Undersecretary during the administration of the hapless Fudge, who had come to be looked on as the Neville Chamberlin of the wizarding world. And then, most shockingly, she had headed the bigoted, Voldemort-sponsored, Muggle-born Registration Commission. And yet, the woman had the uncanny knack for keeping her balance at the top of the pile.

But Marian grimly resolved to see her fall from power, and if she could discredit the vile witch while saving the man she loved, then she would be a coward not to carry out her plan. She quickly returned home for supplies, barely acknowledging Ms. Bear in her hurry. She ignored her wand lying on the table, and picked up a twig from her fireplace instead, which she transfigured to look like a wand. Marian decided not to take any chances and Polyjuiced herself while she was still at home. Quickly downing the disgusting potion, she transformed into a lovely woman with short, windswept auburn hair. She transfigured her robes into a hipper, more figure-hugging style worn by young witches, making sure to have her portkey bra on under her clothes. After carefully wrapping up two additional vials of Polyjuice and one of Rita Skeeter's hard-won hairs, she approached the Floo. "Goodbye, puppy," she called sardonically, "If I'm not back by morning, then you're going to go live at a new home."

Marian had been afraid that the post office would close at dusk, but on her earlier trip had noticed with relief a sign that proclaimed all night service. This was an unexpected windfall. Had it not been open, she would have had to regroup and lose valuable time.

Choosing a fluffy gray owl that looked a bit like the one she had chosen earlier, she handed it a blank piece of parchment addressed to Dolores Umbridge. She tied a piece of yarn around the missive and, after a moment's thought, decided to make the cord glow. It dangled a bit in the air underneath the owl. Marian took this precaution because it would be calamitous if she lost sight of the bird.

Glancing around before quickly ducking into the shadows, she once again changed to her Animagus form and leisurely followed the owl with the glowing string. Wryly, she reflected that in the past six months she had changed into her animal form more than she had in the past three years put together. And her Polyjuice consumption was off the charts as well, but she slightly shrugged her shoulders. Such things were necessary in times like these.

Marian didn't know where she expected Umbridge to live. Perhaps, she snickered, in an iced gingerbread house with a fence made of lollipops, like the fat evil witches in Muggle storybooks. At the very least, she expected a place like Skeeter's—a tacky, ostentatious villa. Instead, she was surprised to find the owl circling a modern, ultra-chic apartment complex. But Umbridge was hardly suffering, she thought to herself. The shared lawn was perfectly landscaped, and the windows were large, revealing spacious, airy rooms filled with sumptuous furniture. She could see the concierge at the door, dressed very smartly in purple and silver. He seemed to be standing very straight, looking alertly over the lawn. Marian swore to herself. It _would_ figure that she had found the one apartment night guard in the world that took his job seriously. But then again, that sadistic, fault-finding Umbridge had a way of making everyone in her vicinity strained and ill-at-ease. She wondered how Severus had stood her for an entire year. The man really had marvelous patience, when all was said and done, Marian thought. In that regard, as in all others, he was severely misjudged.

Marian had another bit of luck when the bird turned. It approached a window on the opposite side of the building from the watchful guard. She decided to allow the owl to deliver the blank missive. That would at least get Umbridge out of bed, if she was already asleep, although Marian doubted she was, as it couldn't be much past ten. Flying a little distance away, she resumed her human form and uncorked one of the remaining vials of Polyjuice. Dropping the platinum blonde hair into the mixture, she made a face when it turned a livid green. Knowing that essence of Skeeter was going to taste absolutely horrific, she decided to get it over with and held her nose, throwing the whole thing back, choking and gagging. The Polyjuice had been pretty foul when she had partaken about thirty minutes ago, but the flavor of Polyjuice varied heavily with the final ingredient.

She shuddered and began to change. Once it was over, she glanced down at her painted, talon-like nails with amused disgust. After adjusting her 'portkey', she then changed her attire into something more to Rita's taste, using plenty of lurid greens and pinks, snakeskin and feathers. She sniggered. She had never appreciated herself more than when she was forced to adorn herself in Skeeter mode. Imagine looking so tawdry all the time, she thought. Conjuring a long feather quill and a notebook, as well as a pair of large, 1950s-style neon pink eyeglasses with a fancy gold chain, she decided that she passed muster, and Disapparated from the copse of trees, reappearing suddenly within feet of the night watchman.

"What the dev—Oh, good evening, madam," he amended, eyeing her suspiciously. The short, badger-faced man had been startled at her sudden entrance, but quickly covered the shock with his customary deference.

"I wish to see Dolores Umbridge," Marian said high-handedly, speaking in the mincing, crooning way that Rita had perfected.

"No soliciting is allowed on the premises," he answered dubiously, his beady black eyes sizing her up.

"She and I have business," Marian answered, adding, "I believe she's expecting me."

She didn't know what made her add that last part, because of course Umbridge _wasn't_ expecting her. She nearly cursed out loud when he said stodgily, "I have been given no instructions, and it's far too late to just buzz up there and check. We have policies here, you know."

He was just congratulating himself on how he had shown _her_, when Marian called desperately, "Alright, she's not expecting me, but she would want to speak with me. I have crucial information for her, and she would be _very_ displeased if she didn't get word in time."

Finding her pace, she continued in a cooler tone, "She and I have an…arrangement. She shares her influence, and I share news. Dolores is very powerful, and I'll make sure that if she goes after my job to punish me—which is more than likely—that she knows you were the reason I wasn't able to inform her in time."

His eyebrows shot up and he appeared to be thinking. Obviously, he knew Umbridge and her vindictive ways. Before he could answer, she decided to call forth her inner Rita and added, "And if that toad-faced woman upstairs doesn't speak to your superiors, then I'm afraid that I'll have to take matters into my own quill and write an article entitled, 'Condos with the Most Incompetent Concierges." Once your bosses read in the _Daily Prophet_ that their apartment complex has the dubious honor of ranking number one on the list, well—you won't keep your precious job for long," she snapped out audaciously.

"But that's libel—and blackmail!" he exclaimed in outrage.

"My bread and butter—or make that…_caviar_," Marian replied shamelessly, getting into her role.

She found it surprisingly liberating to be Rita Skeeter. How fun and freeing to be entirely selfish and careless of other people's feelings. She decided to enjoy the opportunity to be flamboyant and completely irritating. Marian began clacking her fingernails on every available surface. He narrowed his eyes even further. She was just trying to talk herself into Imperiusing him if he turned her away, when he finally folded.

"Alright," he sighed sulkily, "Go up. It's number 13."

She padded down the corridor, making no sound on the thickly-piled beige carpet. Number 13 proved to be directly around the first bend. She was unsurprised that Umbridge had found one of the flats closest to the entrance to keep from having to walk far. Marian knocked on the door, making sure her nails glanced off the wood and gave a satisfying clack-clack sound. Something in her made it impossible not to try to annoy Umbridge whenever she was nearby.

A familiar voice answered, with a veneer of sweetness stretched thinly over irritation, "I can't imagine why Peter has allowed me to be disturbed at this time of night, or why he has given a reporter access to my rooms. I'm _afraid_ it will be my duty to report him."

Marian felt a flood of relief when she heard the saccharine tones. Umbridge was home, and almost certainly alone. She ignored the annoyed diatribe and called out in a voice that matched Umbridge's for false sweetness, "So sorry to disturb you, Ms. Umbridge. But I'm here to speak with you about Severus Snape's escape from Azkaban this evening."

Marian figured that the less she strayed from the truth, the better the chance of success. And she had a hunch that the dreadful woman would invite her in, if only to question her about the particulars. She was not disappointed.

"Severus Snape—escape! That's impossible!" Umbridge exclaimed, startled into using her normal voice, in which the sugary quality was noticeable absent.

She heedlessly swung open the door and ushered Marian in, saying, "Where did you hear this? And why was I not informed? I saw him only hours ago and he was nearly dead! It is impossible that he escaped under his own power."

Marian wordlessly cast a Silencing Spell and closed the door behind her. She answered, "You're quite right. He _isn't_ going to escape under his own power," and with those words, she immobilized her.

The shock and malevolence of Umbridge's mien was fascinating to observe. Marian felt suddenly glad that the real Rita Skeeter had an alibi for tonight—and she had never imagined feeling concern for _her_. But the malignance in the squat witch's eyes promised retribution. Slightly unnerved by the pure evil of the woman, Marian mentally reminded herself that she was in charge. Filled with a renewed sense of purpose, she took a few steps towards the frozen woman, her high heels clicking menacingly against the black-and white-tiled floor.

"Don't be upset," Marian taunted, "As a matter of fact, you are the very _first_ person to be informed of his escape. It had to be that way, since you are going to be instrumental in removing him from Azkaban."

Umbridge sputtered in fury. The modified Immobilicorpus allowed her head freedom of movement while the rest of her body was safely suspended in air; the spell keeping her more secure than if she was wrapped in ropes from head to her small Mary Jane-clad feet—or cloven hooves, as Marian secretly suspected. Remembering her plan, Marian now altered her behavior to match her new role. She was supposed to come across as a Death Eater masquerading as the reporter.

"Before you lose your temper, let me just tell you that you and I want the same thing—_punishment_. You want to try Snape in a court of law and then give him the Dementor's Kiss. My associates and I want to make him suffer for betraying the Dark Lord, and we have something a little more sinister in mind for him. Surely you understand," Marian said callously.

Umbridge seemed to relax a little. Marian felt sickened that the twisted, toad-like woman seemed indignant at the idea of him escaping to freedom, but was appeased by the idea of him being tortured to death.

"You're not Rita Skeeter!" she said accusingly, as the insight finally occurred to her.

"No. I'm not. How clever of you...Now, I am going to outline my demands," Marian said in a bored tone. She continued, "If you play fair with us, you will remain unharmed."

Umbridge looked skeptical, but nodded.

"We need to get into Azkaban. So this is what will happen: I'm going to take one of your hairs," here Marian stepped forward and roughly pulled out a few strands from the woman's coif. Umbridge's gaze became even more venomous, although Marian hadn't thought such a thing was possible.

"I am going to send this hair to…someone, and he is going to Polyjuice himself as you. I will stay here and guard you, while he gets into Azkaban, following the instructions you will give us."

"But even if I do what you want," Umbridge broke in piteously, "You'll still kill me, because even if he makes it over to Azkaban, he'll never escape from there—especially not with a prisoner in tow."

"Planning an escape from Azkaban is our problem. All you need to worry about is getting him onto the island. He will send me notification via a charm and then I will stun you and leave your apartment. Once you wake up, it will be too late to thwart us," Marian related, trying to make this plan sound genuine.

"So no matter what happens to your man once he reaches Azkaban, I get to live?" she asked.

"You have my word," Marian answered firmly.

"Surely I ought to know your name, if I am to have you word," Umbridge wheedled, in a woefully inept attempt to outsmart her captor.

Marian nearly laughed at the woman's gall, but changed her mind at the last minute, and decided to make a literary joke instead. She answered nonchalantly, "Very well. You may call me _Metis_."

Umbrage appeared to be thinking, and then a diabolical smile slowly blossomed across her face, although she tried to hide it from Marian, who noticed at once, and was in consternation over what it meant. But besides the one sadistic, secret smile, the ugly woman made no indication that she hadn't completely capitulated. She seemed to be playing fair, giving precise directions to the docks where the small boats traversed the North Sea on the way to that gloomy fortress.

Once Marian had all the information she needed, she cocked her head and asked, "Out of curiosity, what do you have against Snape? It's obvious that you hate him, but you know as well as I do that he actually _was_ Dumbledore's spy and unfaithful to the Dark Lord. So technically, he's on your side."

To tell the truth, Marian was fascinated to meet someone whose impulses were all so decidedly evil. She wondered what drove Umbridge. In response to her query, the woman's eyes became flinty and narrowed, and she said stridently, "He has always operated outside the law. He bears the Dark Mark, which is unforgivable, but as if that wasn't enough, when he changed sides he transmitted information to Dumbledore, and not the Ministry."

"I see," Marian said, marveling at the spectacle the hateful woman made, her broad mouth scowling in disapproval and her cheeks suffused with red in righteous anger. _Umbridge actually thought that she was in the right._ Marian shivered and suddenly decided to give the wicked witch a bit of her own medicine. She couldn't merely stun her, because that would wear off too quickly and Marian had no intention of allowing this legalistic prig a chance to foil her plan.

Of course, the story she had made up for Umbridge was patently untrue. There were no 'associates'. There was only Marian, and she was going to have to go to Azkaban herself, leaving no one to guard the toad—er, woman.

The bedroom door was slightly ajar and Marian saw that the bed had one of those white-painted metal frames with lots of curlicues. Suddenly the most delightfully devious thought occurred to her. Before Umbridge could protest, Marian stunned her as a matter of course, and, distasteful as it was, magically divested her of her clothing. Then she levitated her onto the bed, transfigured a pair of handcuffs and clipped the woman's meaty arms above her head. The sight was decidedly unpleasant, and she snickered to herself at the reactions the view would garner when the Aurors broke in a few hours later. They would come and find her directly, because they would think that Umbridge had broken Snape out of Azkaban. She thought Severus would be amused when he heard about this last bit.

Marian placed a hair in the Polyjuice, and was only just in time, because she could feel herself beginning to change back from her Rita Skeeter form. Drinking essence of Umbridge proved to be the single most disgusting thing she had ever tasted. It was like…like drinking a cup of black bile drained out of someone that had just died of the plague. If she hadn't been doing it to save Severus from a hideous death, she didn't know whether she could have continued past the first swallow. But she survived the experience, and altered her garments to look identical to the ones that Umbridge had been wearing, which were now in a pile on the floor. She had much rather transfigure her own clothes than put on _anything_ that had touched Umbridge' naked body. She transfigured in degrees, so that one Finite Incantatem wouldn't give away the game.

Marian grabbed the woman's wand off of the bedside table, and as a parting gift, changed all of the many kitten pictures in the room to portraits of Voldemort. See what the Aurors thought about_ that_, she thought smugly.

The next phase of her plan took very little skill. She Flooed to the Ministry of Magic, which was almost completely deserted. She only saw two people, a harried-looking assistant and a night watchman. Both gave her a wide berth. She walked purposefully, taking comfort in the fact that at least things had gone smoothly _so far_.

She reached the transportation area and met an old, bored wizard, who had a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ propped on his sizeable paunch. "Ms. Umbridge, back so soon?" he asked in a jovial voice with a hint of uneasiness.

"Good evening," Marian simpered, adopting Umbridge's pompous manner, "I require a portkey to the Azkaban docks."

"Can't imagine how you Ministry types do it. Treating Azkaban like it's business as usual. One visit in a lifetime would be enough for most people," he answered, raising his bushy white eyebrows, his tone questing for more information.

Marian nearly smiled at the curious look on his face. Clearly, he didn't really know Umbridge. "Have you been there yourself, then?" she asked in her most mistrusting, officious voice.

Realizing that the faux-Umbridge was about to give him the third degree, he changed his manner at once from lazy to rushed. He promptly placed an object in her hand. "Here it is, ma'am. What time should I set it for your return?" he asked hurriedly, barely pausing for an answer.

"Set it for two hours," she responded, knowing perfectly well that she would be making no return journey with this portkey.

With a curt nod, she took the—was it really a Muggle ping pong ball?—in hand and felt the sickening swirl of an activated portkey. She held it tightly, not wanting to risk the awful consequences of it slipping out of her grasp in midair. Once she landed, she found herself standing outside between a small, ugly-looking concrete building and a well-built wooden pier, with six narrow black boats pulled up beside it, jostling violently with the motion of the waves. She wondered why they needed so many, but understood at once after she took a closer look at the boats. They were so small and flimsy-looking that she doubted they could carry three people. Her kayak at home was nearly as large.

Even in the summer, the wind blowing off the North Sea chilled her to the bone. When she looked out across the choppy waves, shining like shards of obsidian beneath the sparse light of the stars, Marian thought she could make out land in the distance, but it was very difficult to tell. The farther out to sea she gazed, the hazier the air seemed to grow, until everything faded into a swirling, gray-black blur.

Marian squared Umbridge's broad shoulders and marched up to the door of the—she supposed it was a bunker-and rapped smartly. After a short pause, a bleary-eyed guard answered, seeming surprised to see her.

She entered, holding her head high as she approached a pleasant-looking fellow with prominent buck-teeth, sitting on one of the tall chairs behind the counter. Marian called out brashly, "I need an escort to Azkaban."

"It's very late," the man objected, sharing a glance with the one that had opened the door to her.

Marian merely raised an eyebrow. After a moment, he seemed to grow nervous and amended his stance by asking, "Do you have a written order?"

She peered at his name badge and said in a firm, falsely-sweet voice, "_Willard_, I _write_ the orders."

"Oh," he replied, clearly not expecting that comment. Marian had taken a gamble. She knew that Umbridge had nearly unlimited power in the Ministry, and could probably write permission slips to visit Azkaban if she chose. But she was by no means certain. Her heart sank when the man called, "Hey, Bob, can you come out here for a minute?"

A door behind the counter opened and a small, bespectacled wizard stepped forth, wearing the tell-tale gray regalia of an Azkaban guard, just like the others; although, unlike his comrades, he had a very precise, antiseptic way about him. Marian knew instinctively that he was the cleverest of the bunch and that she would need to bring all her influence to bear on him. When Marian glanced through the open doorway behind him, she was able to see what looked like a very expensive, modified wizarding wireless. She supposed that it was one of the ways the guards at the pier on the mainland kept in contact with those at Azkaban.

"It had better be important," the new man grumbled peevishly, rounding the counter, "I can't be out of communication range even for a moment. Anything could happen, now that those bloody Dementors are back—and not as well-behaved as they used to be, you can be sure. Why the higher-ups didn't assign more people to this shift, I'll never understand. Guess they're all too busy _celebrating_," he finished, unmistakable acid in his tone.

This was the first Marian had heard that the Dementors had returned. Now she was beginning to understand the look of evil glee on Umbridge's face. The false witch had expected that her enemies would have no trouble getting in, but would find it impossible to escape. No doubt the idea of Azkaban claiming a couple more victims had delighted her even more than the prospect of Severus Snape undergoing torture. But perhaps, Marian thought, her blood running cold, Umbridge had realized that Severus was at the threshold of death, and not even worth torturing.

"This _woman_," Willard said, eying Marian dubiously, "wants to go over to Azkaban. At _this_ time of night."

Filled with fresh resolve to give this attempt everything she had, Marian decided to use every ounce of Umbridge's influence to her advantage. "_Hem hem_," she interrupted pompously.

The new man turned towards her, dread and recognition filling his small hazel eyes, which looked almost yellow in the artificial brightness of the office.

"I apologize, Madame Umbridge. I did not know that it was you," he said cringingly, turning towards her deferentially, "If you desire passage, you shall have it at once. But please tell me, has anything changed since your visit a few hours ago?"

Marian tried to hide her surprise. Umbridge had made no mention of a previous visit to Azkaban. She wondered what on earth would have made the woman travel all the way out here. She had heard that she had sent Severus over in the morning, directly from St. Mungo's. There had been no talk of a personal visit. Marian decided that she would have to be very careful about what she said, in order not to expose herself by contradicting something the actual Umbridge had said earlier in the day.

"Something has indeed changed," Marian answered portentously, "but I am not at leisure to explain it to you. I must go over to Azkaban at once."

"Very well," he replied, knuckling under, "I will relay notice of your imminent arrival to the fortress. What parts do you intend to visit while you are there?"

"The cell of Severus Snape," she replied, her impatience over this delay leaking out. After all, the Polyjuice wouldn't last forever.

He picked up on her annoyance and it seemed to make him even more nervous. The other two men had kept quiet, content to fade into the background while their shift manager dealt with this unpleasant Ministry official. "I will arrange the security," he answered smartly, adding, "I am afraid that we must keep your wand and your portkey here until your return, and you must undergo a security sweep. Precautions, you know," he added apologetically.

Marian opted for a neutral reaction, merely nodding and handing over Umbridge's wand and the Ping-Pong ball. She couldn't be sure if Umbridge usually made a fuss or praised their efficiency, so she decided not to lean towards either extreme.

"Thank you very much, Madame. We will keep it safe for you and return it immediately upon your arrival back here. These gentlemen will see to the security sweep and carry you over to the island. Good evening," he said with alacrity, quickly taking his leave, carrying her things with him into the back room. He left the door ajar, and she supposed that he would have to man both areas of the building now, although it hardly mattered. He was unlikely to see any more corrupt Ministry officials demanding passage to Azkaban this late at night.

She glanced back at Willard and said dictatorially, "Well, carry on."

Both of the wizards approached, one standing in front of her and the other behind her. They began to cast all sorts of spells. But Marian wasn't worried. She knew that there was no known way to detect a portkey before it was activated. Their routine Finite Incantatem merely changed the color of one of the buttons on her jacket, and the guards were far too unperceptive to pick up on such a little thing and see it as a red flag.

Soon enough, Willard and the broad-chested, younger-looking man that had opened the door finished their work and motioned her outside. Marian warily stepped into one of the lurching boats, hoping that the ride wouldn't take very long and worrying that vessels like this had not been built with someone of Umbridge's girth in mind. But her fears were groundless, because she had forgotten an obvious yet important fact: _magic_. Magic could keep a house as poorly designed as The Burrow from collapsing in on itself, and it could also make this small boat flit across the sea as though it weighed no more than a paper one. For all she knew, it didn't.

The closer they got to Azkaban, the colder and mistier it grew, and she shivered in the bottom of the boat. The two men stared grimly ahead into the darkness, neither one speaking. As they neared the island fortress, the three of them felt a heavy dread settle in their hearts. Shifting anxiously, the younger man in the prow suddenly broke the silence, "Steve was working the day shift, and he told me that when he saw all those Dementors come gliding out over the water headed back to Azkaban that it was the scariest thing he had ever seen. I only joined as a guard after the Dementors had left. I don't want any part of those creatures. If the Ministry decides to keep them around, then I'm quitting."

"I'm sure that consideration will weigh heavily with the Ministry when they make their decision," Marian said snidely, trying to keep her spirits up, which was nearly impossible when she had to try to pretend to be a woman with a leprous, terrifying soul.

The conversation was stifled for a moment, and Marian decided that it was up to her to reengage the two. "How many prisoners are here now?" she asked.

Willard thought for a moment and said, "Before today, there were about eighty—mostly the really weak and crazy ones were left. All of You-Know-Who's followers escaped—but of course everybody knows all about that. It was in the papers. But after the battle today, we just got a lot more. Another forty or so, I'd say. I dunno if they'll stay here though."

"They're going to be tried for war crimes. I am the head of that tribunal. If they are found guilty, then they'll remain in Azkaban. If they are prior escapees or particularly notorious, they'll be given the Kiss," Marian answered sleekly.

Both men looked awed when they heard about her current appointment. Willard perked up the courage to ask, "How were things on the island when you went there this afternoon? Some of the guards have been saying that the Dementors are really hard to handle—wilder now, since they've roamed free for so long. They gave a couple of prisoners unauthorized Kisses earlier this evening. I'm sure that there's going to be an investigation, even though the two inmates _were_ Death Eaters. I don't know how the guards could have stopped it. They can't be everywhere, after all.

"And they have to worry about their own protection. From what I hear, those things have even been going after _them_. Nobody is safe, and it's bloody difficult—pardon my language, ma'am—to maintain a Patronus for more than a minute or so. And to keep conjuring them in that Dementor-filled environment…well, it's a powerful drain on a person's energy. Hard to keep alert. And there are more Dementors than before. It's like they multiplied while they were out wandering free. Now there is nearly one to every two or three prisoners."

Marian pursed her lips, and Willard amended quickly, "Although I'm not criticizing the Ministry, mind you. The Dementors _do_ have their advantages. Nobody escapes when they're guarding, and I mean _nobody_. Except for that unregistered Animagus, Sirius Black. Hear he's been pardoned by the way—hell of a story, that was. But anyway, he never would have escaped at all had the guards known he was an Animagus. They would have taken extra precautions with him. But all that's water under the bridge….Speaking of water, we're about to the end of it. Here comes the dock, directly ahead."

Peering into the swirling gray, Marian could barely make out a dock, and the silhouettes of two men standing on it, awaiting their arrival. Willard used the tiller to maneuver them directly alongside, and then their faces were illuminated by blue wand light. "Password," demanded one of the men.

"_Thestral_," Willard answered gravely, and the others nodded, satisfied. The nearer man reached out a hand to help Marian from the boat.

"Goodbye, Madame Umbridge," Willard called out, "I will be back in two hours, but will come sooner if you send for me."

"Very well," Marian answered dismissively, and turned toward the new guard, a skinny, harried-looking man with wind-ruffled, straw-colored hair.

"Good evening, Madame," he said, "My name is Arnold. I made up part of your escort earlier today, but you probably don't remember me. This is Tom, and together we'll keep you safe in Azkaban this evening. Please follow me to the main guardroom, where we can equip you with a wand. But why am I telling _you_ this? You already know the drill."

Marian_ didn't_ know the drill—hadn't the slightest clue about the procedure for entering Azkaban. What on earth had he meant about issuing her a wand? She felt greatly alarmed when she heard that he had been with the real Umbridge earlier today. It would be easier for him to spot a fake than many of the others.

But she nodded and followed him, pretending to be completely unruffled, although her surroundings were beginning to frighten her very badly indeed. They brought back terrible memories of the place behind the Veil, where she had been imprisoned in that pitch black chamber of horrors, slowly sapped of her life-force, while cruel talons grasped at her, scraped her. She shook herself and moved forward, towards the vast tower, which stretched towards the sky. It was hard to tell in the dark, but it seemed to be made of some sort of metal. If there were windows, they were very small and difficult to make out in the permanent haze. The prison was a stele, a vast gravestone, and death and hell mingled together inside it.

Taking a deep breath, and trying her best to remain calm, she entered the fortress. They entered the large office directly on the left. This seemed to be the command post, and the four guards inside looked a bit jumpy. It was easy to see that they were on high alert. Chocolate candy was piled up on a card table in the corner, and there were many wrappers lying discarded in a heap. Clearly, these people had had more important things to think about lately than depositing the papers in the trash on the other side of the room. Two of them were busily communicating—with the patrolling guards or with the mainland. She wasn't sure exactly. The other two men appeared to be emergency backups, and they had a look about them that suggested they had already seen action this night.

One of these guards, a capable-seeming black man with a rather impressive mustache, approached her. "Ma'am, welcome back to Azkaban. We have already had a couple of casualties here tonight, so I am going to enact our emergency protocol and issue you one of the extra guard wands for your protection. You will have escorts, who are trained to deal with Dementors and violent prisoners, but it's important to keep in mind that we _have_ doubled our prison population and received the Dementors back all in one day. That is a pretty big adjustment and it's better to be safe.

"This wand can only cast one spell—the Patronus charm. I ask that you demonstrate your ability to cast one now. We need to know if you'll be able to defend yourself, if necessary. Your Ministry file says that you can cast a housecat Patronus, but, well, casting one in Azkaban is a little different than doing it anywhere else," he concluded.

Marian nearly bolted. It hadn't occurred to her that she would be forced to cast a Patronus! For of course hers was not the same as Umbridge's. Each person's Patronus was specific to that witch or wizard. If this was a test, then they would trap her neatly. It was an ingenious way to discover whether someone was an imposter. But she was too close to back out and resolved to try to get by on bluster alone. So she reached for the wand. "_Expecto Patronum!"_ Marian exclaimed, feeling the slightly unusual feeling of channeling her magic through an unfamiliar wand.

A sleek, dangerous-looking panther poured from the tip, and she admired it, in spite of the circumstances. It had Severus' eyes.

"_That's_ supposed to be a housecat?" someone asked dubiously, as the predatory cat prowled restlessly back and forth on silent pads, pausing once to lick its chops, revealing a glimpse of long, white canines in the process.

Marian rounded on him and gave him the patented-Umbridge, strained, sugary smile that threatened retribution. "Why, _yes_. It looks like a housecat to me, and it looked like one to the highly-trained Ministry officials that update the personnel files, but if you think you're more capable than they are, perhaps you should apply to that department and show them how it's done.

"I did _not_ sail out here in the middle of the night on that children's toy you call a boat for a social call. As_ head_ of the _War Crimes Tribunal_, I would like to be taken immediately to the prisoner Severus Snape—that is, if we're all finished here with the break-room chit-chat," Marian said, emphasizing her own importance and putting a dangerous edge into her voice, warning them not to dispute her word. She was growing very nervous. It had taken far longer to deal with the transport to Azkaban than she had expected. By her calculations, she only had about thirty minutes until her Polyjuice wore off.

The men were eying her as though she were some sort of poisonous reptile. _Perfect_. She had succeeded in changing their perception when it came to her. Now, instead of seeing her as a potential security risk, they looked on her as a superior that could make serious trouble for them. Rather than viewing her with suspicion, they desperately wanted to avoid her displeasure.

"Yes, ma'am," Arnold said dutifully, stepping forward. He seemed to hesitate before instructing her, "Please stay close behind me."

She nodded and cautiously followed through the dark, dank corridors. The sensation of dread and misery nearly choked her. She greatly feared for Severus. How could anyone be cruel enough to send a critically-injured man into this dementors' lair? She felt a stab of fierce delight when she thought of Umbridge being discovered in the condition in which she had left her.

They walked for a long time, passing many empty cells, until they finally reached a decrepit-looking lift. It gave an alarming creak when she stepped inside, and Marian felt certain that the floor beneath her tilted, but she was fearless, now that she was so close to rescuing one so precious to her. They went up many floors before Arnold exited. She followed her guide, while his silent partner stayed close on her heels.

It felt considerably colder up here. Apparently, the chilly sea air was blowing through the windows, and everything on the inside was made of thick slabs of stone—it looked a bit like limestone, but she suspected that it was some sort of concrete derivative. The walls glimmered with moisture. In all ways, Azkaban was the antithesis of what Severus' condition required.

"This is the top floor, where we house our most notorious criminals," Arnold told her, as he peered from left to right, keeping an eye out for Dementors.

As Marian passed through the corridor, she saw many cells with people in them, although most of them paid her no attention, huddling in the corners for warmth. Two or three talked quietly to themselves, rocking back and forth with filth-streaked faces. One of the prisoners glanced up and noticed her, baring his teeth and grimacing in a mad, menacing way that made her suddenly very thankful for the metal bars that separated them. Farther down the passage, one man was screaming incessantly. His shrieks were horrible, full of terror and despair, but the other prisoners seemed not to notice. They were too absorbed in their own misery.

Marian tried not to shudder. Evil stalked this place. Every shadow seemed to teem with Dementors. Even though she had yet to see one, she could sense their presence all around her. This island must truly be filled with them. Suddenly, her mind began to grow dark with hopelessness. Surely, she thought, it was too late to save Severus. She never should have come here. Everything was in vain. He had lived a wretched, lonely life and would receive a similar death. She wanted to hide, to crawl away. She hated her uselessness, her corruption, who she had become….Marian suddenly shook herself, realizing that these thoughts were unnaturally dark. As she looked around, she noticed that the guards had raised their wands and were peering into the shadows. She did the same.

They had reached a bend in the passage, where one had a choice of continuing forward or turning to the right. And then, all at once, she saw them-four Dementors gliding eerily down the passageway in their direction. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that another two were coming down the side corridor, staying very close to the stone walls, practically oozing along. It was obviously an ambush, and Marian startled with horror.

_The Dementors must be permanently removed from Azkaban_, she thought determinedly. It was completely unacceptable to force the guards to deal with this sort of danger. The prisoners themselves lacked wands and were sitting ducks. It would be one thing if they had been given death sentences, but they hadn't. The whole setup was consummately unjust and only served to highlight the longstanding corruption of the Ministry. She sincerely hoped that Kingsley would take the government in a more wholesome direction, and make getting rid of the dementors one of his first priorities.

Two Patroni dove out of the wands of the men beside her. A shining crab and what looked to be a small horse entered the fray. Her silver leopard quickly joined in, and seemed brighter and more corporeal than the others. She supposed that it was because the guards had grown tired, having been forced to defend themselves all day and night; while this was the first time she had found it necessary to cast the charm. And even though Marian was in Azkaban, she had a great hope that kept her strong.

All at once, she noticed another Patronus come gliding down the hall towards them. It looked like a bulldog, and when the Dementors saw that they were under attack from both directions, swiftly fled. It was impossible to see where they had gone. For all Marian could tell, they had simply melted into the floor. Strange, insubstantial creatures and yet…so immensely powerful. A sort of demon from another realm.

Once the Dementors fell back, everyone breathed easier. Without discussion, they doubled their pace and it didn't take long for them to meet up with the guard that had cast the bulldog Patronus. He looked much like his canine representation—short and stocky, with a stubborn, fearless cast to his snub-nosed face. Marian guessed that he was about forty, but it was difficult to tell. She suspected that Azkaban would prove a major aging factor.

"Did they finally send us backup?" he asked her escorts hopefully.

"No. Sorry, Mac. No one to send. We're escorting this important Ministry official to _Snape's_ cell," Arnold explained.

"Oh well. I saw your Patronuses and knew it was too good to be true," he muttered, adding aloud, "So she wants to see the high-profile prisoner. Well, Snape's cell is back this way. I've had a devil of a time keeping the Dementors off him. They know he's dying and that just makes them crazy to get to him before he passes out of their reach."

Marian said nothing, although her heart had constricted at his words. Grimly setting her lips, she followed, walking so quickly that she nearly trod on the feet of the man in front of her.

Arnold caught up to her and muttered, "Is it true that his trial is still scheduled for tomorrow morning?"

Marian sensed that he was asking for confirmation rather than trying to trap her, so she answered self-importantly, "Yes. His will be the first, because he's the most infamous Death Eater. We will make an example of him. That is why I need to see how he's doing tonight. If he's very ill, he may require a rather elaborate glamour for tomorrow. The press will be there taking photos, you know."

"Oh, he's ill all right. Hasn't stirred in hours," the bulldog man called boomingly, glancing back at her over his shoulder.

"Is he still alive?" Marian asked, striving to keep her voice level.

"I think so, but it's hard to tell. I threw a blanket in to him earlier, but he never touched it. I hope he _does_ make it to trial. It would give everybody some closure. But no matter what happens, at least Dumbledore's murderer will finally be dead," he responded pragmatically.

They finally stopped opposite a cell on the end. It seemed a remarkably poor choice for a sick man because it had windows in both of the outside walls, blowing icy air down from above and chilling the stone walls and floors. Through the bars, Marian could see the body of a man, lying crumpled on the ground. Like a piece of rubbish thrown on the top of an overflowing bin, the spy lay in a broken heap, curled in on himself.

She was too far away to tell whether he was alive or dead, but felt a surge of cold fury when she realized that he had been thrown into prison wearing nothing but his filmy hospital gown. He lay on the bare stone, with a threadbare, wadded-up blanket lying untouched about a yard away from him.

Marian looked up at the men with a steely glint in her eye. "I need to get into that cell," she demanded, trying to swallow down the panic that threatened to burst forth. She wanted to fight and claw her way over to Severus' side, not to argue and be reasonable. Seeing him so critically hurt brought out her primitive side, where the only thing that mattered to her was protecting him.

The prison guards exchanged nervous glances; and the bulldog fellow, who seemed to have a bit more moxy than the others, contended, "No one is allowed in the cells for any reason. I'm afraid you'll have to do your assessment from out here."

"Why, are you afraid of him _escaping_?" she asked, in tones that dripped with disdain.

Before he could answer, and tell her that rules were rules, Marian played her next card. She was desperate to get within reach of Severus, and would have done absolutely anything at that point, so she was going to use every weapon in her—or rather Umbridge's—arsenal to get her way.

"Perhaps you were unaware of this," she answered in a chillingly sweet voice that made her sound like a demonic doll in a Muggle horror film, "but I outrank everyone in this facility. I did _not_ come _all the way_ out to _Azkaban_ in the _middle of the night_ for the _fun_ of it. The new Minister of Magic has sent me here _personally_ to make sure that Severus Snape is alive and well enough to be tried for war crimes tomorrow. It is going to be a momentous event for the wizarding world and will be the first step in our healing process. Now, I have no wand to do diagnostic spells, so I am going to have to go in there and check his vital signs by hand. Either bring him out here, or send me in there. If you refuse to cooperate, I will have you all brought up on charges for impeding an investigation and standing in the way of justice. Is that clear?"

Arnold took an involuntary step back. All three looked offended and uneasy. The stocky man that had been guarding the maximum security floor snapped, "Alright. I'll bring you in. But I think you're wasting your time. That piece of Death Eater scum will be dead by morning."

Apparently, the wands could do more than simply cast a Patronus, because the man held his up to the cell door and muttered several words, before making a series of intricate passes with it, and finally pressing the palm of his hand against the wall to the right of the cell. The bars melted away like smoke.

Marian glanced over at the irritated man and took a step past the barrier. Once she got close to Severus, she gasped aloud, in spite of herself. She had expected puncture wounds, but the snake's large fangs had ripped and mangled his flesh on their way out. It was difficult to distinguish the punctures amid the terrible lacerations covering the right side of his neck, shoulder and chest. Some of the hurts were concealed by his nearly translucent gown, but she could tell that even those wounds laid bare to her eyes were mortal ones. Every time the snake had struck, there would be two holes—one for each fang. She recalled Hermione's precise description of the three attacks, and anticipated finding six holes once she was able to examine him. She noticed that the pendant she had given him was missing. It must have been removed while he was unconscious.

Severus' throat injuries were terrible to behold. His neck was a torn, bloody, gooey mess. With such extensive damage, she wondered if he could be salvaged. Surely punctures that large could have taken out his spinal cord, his windpipe, his lung—there was no telling. And she was certain that the carotid artery had been severed. Who knew how much blood he had lost? Forty percent? Sixty percent?

Marian swiftly approached him. She gently grasped his wrist, but nearly dropped it in surprise at how cold he was. His skin was mottled and blue, and the beautiful hand she held in hers was like a corpse's.

"Well, is the traitor going to make it or isn't he?" the bulldog man asked impatiently, beginning to edge closer.

Marian acted. She couldn't tell whether he was alive or dead, but either way, he was her Severus, and she wouldn't let him stay in a place like this. She would make one last grand gesture. And so she looked up at the guard and said clearly, "He's gone."

Immediately, she activated the portkey, and then they were.


	29. Chapter 29

Author's Note: I am not in the medical field. The actions Marian takes in an attempt to save Severus' life should not be taken as advice to use in a medical emergency. I have gotten most of my information from the internet, and do not vouch for the accuracy of _any_ of it. This is fiction, not a field guide. With that said, I hope you still enjoy it.

Chapter 29: Desperate Measures

They arrived gently in Marian's living room, on the far side of the ocean, out of reach of the Dementors and the Ministry. Marian barely felt jarred at all. It was almost as if they had stood still, but their surroundings had changed. All at once, Ms. Bear came bounding into the room, wiggling vigorously and barking with excitement to see her. She was used to seeing her mistress come and go through the fireplace. To have a stranger suddenly appear in the middle of the house was an unusual and interesting occurrence for the small dog. But Marian quickly shushed her, while wandlessly removing the portkey-harness. All Marian needed would be for Ms. Bear to turn up at the Burrow and make all of her friends worry about her. Much subdued, the puppy slunk over to an armchair and hopped up to watch. Even the little dog could tell that something serious was going on.

Returning all of her focus to Severus, who looked even more dreadful in the light, she gently reached behind his left ear and felt for a pulse. She had to calm herself down, because her own blood pounded heavily in her ears. She hoped to hear something, was terrified that she wouldn't, and then she did, although it was very weak and irregular.

But while there's life, there's hope. Even though she realized that things were dire, she was still flooded with relief. Marian wasn't sure what to do first. It was obvious to her that his injuries were far beyond her skill to heal. His breathing was shallow and rapid, and she occasionally heard a horrible gurgling, sucking sound interspersed with his gasps. Marian didn't know if he was in shock, or if he had hypothermia. Probably both. She remembered that you were supposed to passively lift the victim's legs in case of shock, but for hemorrhages of the head and neck, the head was supposed to be elevated above the heart. So which was it? Was she supposed to bend him in a V-shape? She snorted with disgust at her own ignorance.

But Marian knew that every moment counted when it came to shock, so she cast a very gentle warming charm over him while she assessed the damage. She had heard once that just because someone is unresponsive doesn't mean they can't hear you, so she began speaking comforting words to him low, soothing tones.

Marian could feel her form changing back and felt relieved. Another minute and she would have taken Polyjuice with one of her own hairs in order to regain her capable hands. Umbridge's short, squashy fingers were hardly useful for delicate work. The puppy yelped again in surprise and relief at the transformation, but stayed in her place across the room, although she put her ears down and her flowing white tail trembled with happiness and excitement.

"Severus. It's me, Marian. You're safe now. I'm going to heal you," she crooned gently. She couldn't tell if he could hear her or not.

Marian didn't know what to do first. She didn't want to move him until she saw to his injuries, because for all she knew, jostling him might cause the stasis charm to end prematurely, causing him to bleed out quickly. She was terrified of removing the charm on her own, because of the snake venom. She wouldn't be able to stop him from hemorrhaging, and he would die there on her floor.

She noticed that there was blood on one of his feet. Feeling overwhelmed, Marian decided to start small. At least she could heal _this_. Tears sprang to her eyes when she realized that this new hurt had been made by teeth marks. A rat had been gnawing on his big toe. The vermin of Azkaban had started to eat him _while he was still alive_. If Severus died, Umbridge would _pay_, Marian thought with a sudden stab of hatred. But she swallowed down the bile and willed herself to concentrate. Now was not the time to lose her cool, and after all, there was just the one bite, as far as she was able to see. Pulling out her wand to cast a flesh-knitting charm, she suddenly noticed a curious thing. The blood on his toe had clotted. And the stasis charms had been localized to the critical wounds on his neck and chest. Nagini's venom was known for its anti-coagulative properties...Had Severus done it, then? Had he managed to find time to create a vaccine? If so, he at least stood a fighting chance.

Marian quickly summoned a rag and a bowl of warm water, as well as three textbooks on wizarding medicine. Severus needed a bath. The cells in Azkaban were filthy. No one had ever come in to clean them while the Dementors were there, and the guards certainly wouldn't lower themselves to that kind of work. Their regular duties were miserable enough. Most of the inmates had eventually gone insane, leaving their filth-encrusted cells only in death, when they would bequeath them to the next rush of convicts. To Marian, death was more merciful than Azkaban—although perhaps not a death like the one Severus could be facing.

Her thoughts and observations took mere moments, although she felt as if she were working in slow motion. She wanted to get Severus into a warm bath, and help him truly shake off this dreadful chill, but she couldn't do that until she repaired some of the damage. She wasn't sure what would kill him first, but she knew that hypovolemic shock was a pretty likely candidate. He simply didn't have enough blood volume in his system anymore, and she knew that this would eventually lead to respiratory and then cardiac arrest. In fact, she was surprised it hadn't already happened, but she had heard that it sometimes took eight to ten hours after the initial trauma for shock to set in. Perhaps it took even longer with wizards.

"I'm going to have a look at your wounds," she said in a clear, tender voice.

Marian gathered his blood-matted hair away from the great punctures, although some stuck to his neck injuries, despite her best efforts. Then she summoned a knife and carefully cut away his hospital gown, completely baring the snakebites on his chest and neck to her view. To get rid of any traces of venom still in his system, or in case she was wrong about him having created an antidote, she called for a bezoar. A bezoar wasn't a permanent solution, because the venom was very powerful, but it would at least mitigate its effects. Marian didn't like the idea of him choking on the stone, but saw no alternative but to place it under his tongue, which she proceeded to do, talking gently to him and telling him everything she was doing as she did it.

Once the bezoar was in place, she delicately sponged off the wounds, just to get an idea of what she was dealing with. His body was mangled, truly a mass of horrors. She could see into his neck, to the blue and red blood vessels, the rosy and gray muscles and tubes, with a hint of white bone. For a moment she felt despair creep up on her. All of her efforts, all of her preparation had still not been able to save him from this.

But she decided to try to tackle one thing at a time, and perhaps it wouldn't be such a monumental task—although a sinking feeling told her that once she lifted the stasis charm, chaos would ensue.

Silently saying a prayer, and then alerting Severus to what she was about to do, she removed the charm holding him in limbo. At once, it was as if he had only just been bitten by the snake. The wounds leaked blood, and Marian immediately spelled a blood-replenisher into him, just to give herself a little more time in which to work.

Marian looked for the major artery and saw that it was, in fact, intact. Lucius Malfoy had told the truth about repairing it. The last thread that kept Severus alive was strung across an open space where muscle used to be.

Casting diagnostic spells, she saw that his windpipe was punctured, so she murmured the spell to repair it. Marian liberally poured Wound-Cleaning Potion over his neck and shoulder, and the purple liquid smoked impressively. Her heart wrenched when she saw Severus flinch away from her in his unconscious state. Apparently, it stung quite a bit.

Marian attacked one puncture at a time, setting the healing spells in motion and then covering the wound sites with another protective barrier. It would take months to repair such injuries, especially because an amateur such as she would know none but basic first aid spells. Healers had developed many tricks over the years to encourage wounds to heal faster, but the trouble was that one must usually mix those incantations in when treating the wound. They would prove ineffective if she looked them up later in a book and tried to apply them after she had already started the healing process.

Even though Marian had protected the lacerations, she knew that much more was required. The diagnostics had shown so much trauma that she had barely made a beginning. He had the terrible charging breath—the so-called 'death rattle', notorious among the elderly. His respiration was very shallow and rapid—he took three breaths for every one of hers. She tried to mimic his breathing, and saw spots after several seconds. He must be very strong indeed to have kept this up for hours. She was sure that he couldn't continue on like this indefinitely. Sooner or later, his heart would give out.

In consternation over his breathing, it finally dawned on her that he must be aspirating. His lungs appeared miraculously undamaged, but had been filling with blood through the jagged hole in his trachea. He was literally drowning in his own fluids. For Muggles, this was often a death sentence, but wizards had the ability to simply banish the liquid, which she did with ease. But the scare caused her also to check the lining of his heart. The body's systems were so interconnected that any little thing could create a domino effect of devastation. His heart didn't appear to have fluid gathering around it, but it was still concerning her. Its rhythm was erratic and she knew she would have to monitor it closely for hours.

Marian had collected all sorts of Muggle first aid items, having realized that science was often more effective than magic when it came to medicine. She retrieved an AED and set it by, just in case, along with a portable oxygen concentrator. She had avoided looking at his dear face, which bore the unmistakable marks of suffering and was a chilling gray color—like a putrefying corpse. His delicate lips were blue and cracked, and his cheeks were sunken, smeared with blood and grime. She could see the faint traces of tear tracks on one cheek. When he had lain prone, the blood had flowed up his neck and into his hair.

She mentally cursed the healers at St. Mungo's for their heartlessness. They hadn't even cleaned him up, had just barely patched him together so that he could survive long enough to die the way they wanted him to. His wounds were almost certainly contaminated, _stasis spell_ or not.

Marian removed the bezoar before she adjusted the oxygen and gently slipped the mask over his face. She was very worried about carbon dioxide buildup. She was doing what she could, but was no expert. She felt a new respect for the kind of skill and knowledge it took to heal for a living. Even though Marian had received such great accolades at St. Mungo's, curse-breaking seemed much more straightforward to her than healing. There was a puzzle; one researched and solved it. Simple. But the human body involved so many puzzles, so many delicate, interconnected strands. No wonder the ancient Greeks had viewed the Fates as weavers. Marian shook herself. Where had that thought come from? She was getting dangerously tired. It had been forty-eight hours since she had last slept. Summoning a Pepper-Up, she downed it quickly.

Marian was fairly certain that he would retain his ability to speak, now that his windpipe was repaired, but there had been such extensive damage to the soft tissues of his neck and shoulder that she doubted whether he would be able to swallow potions or even hold his head up. As soon as the thought occurred to her, she created a cushioning spell to hold his head in place, not wanting to see it flop over. She also doubted that he would be able to use his right arm for a while.

Marian spelled another Blood-Replenisher into his stomach—just for good measure, as well as an Invigoration Draught and a Pain-Relieving Potion. She considered giving him a powerful Muggle antibiotic and a tetanus shot as well, but had already used so many potions on him without knowing how they interacted that she felt uncomfortable giving him any but those that were essential for his survival—at least for the next twelve hours.

He still exhibited signs of shock, a weak, rapid pulse and cold clammy skin—not to mention his worrisome heartbeat. He also probably had hypothermia, and so to warm him and get him clean, so that infection wouldn't set in, she levitated him into the bathroom and filled the tub with comforting, warm water. She lowered him in and used cushioning charms to arrange him so that he sat up. Using a soothing tone, she explained what she was doing, as she removed his clothes and protected his modesty by wrapping a towel around his waist. She didn't think he would appreciate the violation, and wished to spare him as much as possible. The water turned red almost immediately, and she shuddered and emptied it, refilling and vanishing the water three different times before it turned a pale, brownish-rose.

Marian's spells protected Severus' neck as she gently washed his hair with a cup, shielding his eyes with her hand as she did when she washed her puppy. She probed his scalp with her fingers, checking for hidden injuries. Marian had to rinse his hair multiple times to get out all the gore. Then she tenderly cleaned his face; the dried blood coupled with his gray pallor had made him look like lifeless and eerily unlike himself. She was forced to remove the oxygen mask for this, but replaced it as soon as she finished bathing his head.

She washed the upper half of his body, which was pale and very lean. He had obviously not been taking very good care of himself for the past year or so, and was observably malnourished. His bones seemed far more prominent than they ought to be and his skin was very sallow from all the time he had been forced to remain indoors. Scars gleamed silvery in the unforgiving light. There were so many—far too many, she thought helplessly. She delicately stroked her forefinger across a ropy scar crossing his collarbone, noting that it had come from some sort of slicing hex. It became obvious to her that he had just as many scars on his back, but most looked very old. Some appeared to be magic-inflicted, but others seemed to be Muggle in origin—perhaps from savage beatings as a child. She felt a lump in her throat and blinked back tears. He had been so strong—isolated, unloved, abused—but always strong, always prevailing. She would not let him break now.

Marian transfigured her clothing into a bathing suit and joined him in the water to wash his legs. She kept the soggy towel draped protectively about him as she sponged beneath it. It hurt her to see him like this, face slack in a terrible unconsciousness that was not sleep. He was always so capable and _alive_—smoldering with barely-suppressed energy. There had never been anything weak about him. Even his glances were powerful—capable of literally seeing into a person.

Marian talked the whole time she bathed him, saying comforting things to the unconscious wizard, telling him how good he was going to feel once she put him in a warm, soft bed and how she was going to take care of him and make sure that he was safe and able to rest.

She summoned one of her garments made of a fine fabric, excessively soft and loose, and transfigured it into a pair of lightweight black boxer shorts. She tried to create them to look like those she knew men wore, although she wasn't very sure about the specifics. Marian was unclear on how they supposedly differed from regular shorts besides having some sort of opening in the front, so she may not have gotten them quite right. She levitated him out of the tub and magically dried him and his bath sheet. She slipped the shorts up his long, lean legs and pulled them to his waist, only removing the towel when he was securely covered.

Marian had considered transfiguring a nightshirt for him, but wanted easy access to his wounds. She needed to know how he was healing. On a sudden whim, she used a shaving charm on his face so that he looked a bit more like his old self. She brought him into the softly-lit guestroom, placing him in the king-sized four-poster, and gently combed his freshly-dried hair before propping him against the pillows in a half-sitting, half-reclining position. She wanted to keep his head above his heart.

Although Marian was generally rather aloof and tough-minded, there was a part of her that was thoughtful, that thirsted for someone to lavish with love—someone besides Ms. Bear, who had long been the sole beneficiary of her adoration. And so, in the vague girlish hope that someday Severus would find himself in her home, had made the guest bed an absolute delight, with a lovely pillow-top mattress, down pillows and comforter, and the silkiest, highest thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets she could find in a very dark blue. Even though everything was new, she had washed the sheets the night before, when she was putting the finishing touches on her prison break plan. So she settled him in, and as she smoothed the hair off his forehead, noticed that he was considerably cooler than she would like, in spite of his bath, so she covered him with another blanket as well as the duvet. She considered an electric blanket, but wasn't sure that was a good idea. She cast another Warming Charm, because she trusted the spell more than an electrical object that could potentially harm him.

Marian was exhausted, but she was too terrified to leave him alone for even a minute. If he had been an average, law-abiding wizard instead of a wanted war criminal, he would be snugly ensconced at St. Mungo's, with a whole staff of nurses to keep an eye on him and a vast array of complicated alarms set to his vital signs. But since he wasn't in the hospital, and she was all he had, Marian determined that he wouldn't suffer through any want of diligence on her part. He already had enough strikes against him with her lack of medical knowledge and experience.

She cast a spell that would periodically vanish the contents of his bladder and bowels without him needing a catheter or bedpan, but would record the quantities, times and characteristics of the waste, so she would know if anything was wrong. It was a rather handy spell that she had located in one of the St. Mungo's training manuals.

Marian looked at him and noticed how chapped and dry his tongue and slightly-parted lips were, so she carefully coated his lips with balm and summoned a glass of water and a straw. When Marian's grandmother had been about to die, she had been discharged from the hospital to stay with her family. The old woman was placed on hospice, although the nurse only came by once a day. The rest of her care had devolved to Marian and her mother, and Marian remembered how they had lifted a little water up in a straw and put it under her tongue, because the elderly woman would choke if she tried to swallow. Marian did the same with Severus now, just giving him enough to irrigate his mouth and relieve some of the terrible thirst she knew he would feel upon waking.

Then she levitated the over-stuffed recliner from her den to his bedside. She summoned a nightgown and quickly changed clothes, keeping one eye on the unconscious man the whole time. Summoning a spare green comforter from the closet, Marian settled down into the plush chair. As soon as she snuggled in, an insistent Ms. Bear appeared on the scene, demanding to be lifted up into the seat with her. Marian complied, and then rolled her eyes indulgently when she was forced to reach down again for the rawhide stick that had dropped out of the puppy's mouth when she was moved.

It was early morning over in England, and the kidnapping—or escape, as some would call it—of Severus Snape would soon be splashed all over the _Daily Prophet_. She curiously awaited her copy, but didn't plan to reach through her Floo to retrieve it for hours yet. The five hour time difference meant that it was still only about midnight in her home nestled in the foothills of the great Appalachian mountain chain.

Fearing that she would fall asleep, Marian raised the window to let in the cool night breeze. The air here smelled differently than anywhere else she had ever visited. It was rich and moist and loamy, very alive. She detected a misty, ancient quality to it. She wondered sometimes if Muggles could smell it too; it was so heady and potent. One could detect all the scents of the rambling, forgotten caves and hills, covered over by trees that grew as thickly here as moss on a shaded rock. Marian loved this secret, hidden land, with its leagues of greenwood threaded through with splashing mountain springs. There was still magic here, the kind not produced by man, but by God.

Marian suddenly remembered to cast the heart-monitoring spell on Severus. It made soft sounds that matched his heartbeats, and a hologram heart hovered a few feet above his head. When the rate was normal, it was green. Yellow for too fast; red for critical; white for too slow. It was currently an unprepossessing orange yellow. It also had the ability to set off an alarm if he reached critical levels—in case she fell asleep or happened to be looking in another direction.

She watched him for a while, and wondered if he was really unconscious, or if he was just too weak to open his eyelids. Marian pondered him, and hated the idea of him being frightened or hurting. She wished that he could tell her whether he was in pain. She possessed some Muggle narcotics as well as the wizard-made Pain-Relieving Potion. She wondered how Severus would feel about taking potions made by someone else. As she recalled, he was quite a snob when it came to that sort of thing. Marian supposed he had the right to be, since he was, after all, one of—if not t_he_-best Potions expert in the world.

But suddenly she remembered how he had reflexively shied away from the sting of the Wound-Cleaning Potion, and decided it was quite possible that he was in agony—conscious or not. He had sustained such trauma. The enormous serpent had mercilessly ripped his body apart, and Marian realized that even if he didn't feel it now, the moment he woke he would feel pain so intense that even a man as tough and brave as he might not be able to endure it. And she had no idea when he would wake up….At that thought, she leapt out of the chair and summoned the potion. She had an ample supply, considering that any sort of medical emergency would probably involve pain, and so it was a fairly safe bet that stockpiling it would pay off. After reading the label, she understood that he would have to be dosed every six hours, and she intended never to let him go even a moment unprotected from the pain.

After giving him the tonic, she stared earnestly at his face for several moments. He appeared a little more relaxed, more peaceful, but that might simply have been wishful thinking on her part. Marian positioned her recliner so close to the bed that the arm brushed against the mattress, and after she settled back in, she reached over him and fondly pulled the covers up to his chin. She slipped her fingers under the blanket and lovingly held his cold, limp hand. Marian had done all she could for the present, and now that her mind was no longer occupied with strategy and action, the loneliness and fear overwhelmed her. She also felt guilt; before last night, she had never taken a life. Since then, her hands had been polluted with the blood of dozens. Even though her reason coolly justified it, her soul cried out in horror—just as Severus had warned her it would.

Marian yearned for Severus, hated seeing him like this. The damage to his body struck her as hideously unnatural. In spite of what the world thought of the complicated spy, to her, he had always been the embodiment of elegance and masculine grace. Severus _was_ poetry.

She wanted to do something, _anything_. Starving for comfort, she could feel the tears rising up, threatening to choke her, to spill over. Striving not to weep and trouble Severus' rest, she began to pray. She begged for his life, and the words poured out of her in a desperate torrent. Anyone that knew her would have been astounded to see the ordinarily detached, standoffish witch so completely overcome. Marian was not a person generally associated with pathos. At last, having said everything she needed to say and yearning for reassurance, she summoned the Bible and began to read to him in a low, halting voice.

Marian began with the gospels, and her voice grew smoother and more melodious as the time passed. She didn't know how long she read, but she made it through a couple books of the New Testament. She periodically rose to check on him, feeling relieved that his body temperature had increased by several degrees and that his heart rate was now in the solid yellow zone. She peeled his blankets back to make sure there were no streaks of red spreading out of the wounds, denoting infection.

A couple of days passed like this with her keeping constant vigil. Marian sometimes slept beside him in the chair, setting her alarm to be sure that she was awake to examine him every two hours. His neck was still a ragged mess, and had to be cleaned often. She hadn't bathed him again, not wanting to move him more than necessary, but used gentle cleansing charms and kept his body carefully sponged off. The snake had been gigantic, and had torn away about a third of the soft tissue of his throat. She had read recently that many of the spells that quickly regenerated flesh had had to be discontinued, because of the number of cancerous tumors that developed when cell division took place at a highly accelerated rate. Cancer rarely afflicted wizards, and the magical world was as powerless as the Muggle one to heal the disease once it took hold. So she had to use common spells, in which the division occurred more slowly, and watch anxiously each day as more of the flesh knit together.

At this rate, it could take weeks or even months before the lacerations no longer showed. As long as the wound was open, it would be dangerous for him. His condition was much dicier than Arthur Weasley's had been. The snake had taken much larger bites out of Severus, tearing the flesh of his throat with the intent to kill and possibly to return later to eat him, rather than simply striking the chest on its way out, as it had done with Weasley. Also, Severus had had to wait much longer for medical treatment, had been in a highly stressed and malnourished condition at the time of the attack, and then, instead of being worked on by medical professionals, had been left in a freezing cell for the night and afterwards treated by an amateur in her home.

His pallor also concerned her, but she knew better than to administer too much Blood-Replenisher, for much the same reason that she didn't use the quick flesh-healing spells. Too much replenisher caused leukemia. Instead, she decided to give him a transfusion, and quickly set the spell into motion that would type his blood. She realized with relief that he possessed the Rh antigens, and so, luckily her O positive blood would suffice for him. What were the odds? She would have hated to steal blood from a clinic, but wasn't above it—not for _him_.

At once, she began magically transferring her blood into his body, and grew fascinated by the slight color that was returning to his cheeks. Severus was so pale that his skin was remarkably translucent. It was almost like filling a porcelain vessel. She could literally _see_ the life and pigment returning. After a few minutes, she began to feel weak, and after a few more, she lost the strength to stand and tumbled to the ground. Marian quickly ended the incantation and summoned a vial of Blood-Replenishing Potion for herself. As she slowly dragged herself off the floor to the consternation of her puppy, she noticed that his face contained considerably more life that it had a few moments before. His lips had lost the hideous chalky whiteness of the newly dead, and he even seemed to be breathing a little easier.

Marian kept him clean, and after the first two days was able to remove the oxygen mask, which pleased her to no end. It proved greatly comforting to be able to look at his dear face all the time, even though it was lined by suffering and exhaustion. She had been forced to give into sleep after the blood transfusion. Her body had reached the point where rest was absolutely imperative, so she dozed fitfully in the armchair, setting an alarm for six hours later. Marian kept her hand on the pulse in his wrist even in her sleep, terrified that his heart rate would grow weaker and weaker while she remained oblivious. They kept up this pattern for a while. She would sleep for a few hours at a time, in the chair, but never left his side, except to collect the mail and do quick tasks. A few times, she was notified that there were visitors at her Glastonbury house, but she paid no attention to the summonses, knowing that if she crossed through and was detained that Severus could die.

Marian was very careful of him, changing his position every few hours to keep him from getting bedsores or pneumonia. She also magicked fluids directly into his body. She gradually raised the amount to thirty-six ounces a day by the third day, making sure his stomach could hold it comfortably. It had not escaped her notice that he looked rather underfed and she surmised that his stomach might have shrunk during the time he had neglected his own needs. She spelled water into him, along with two cans of the nutrition drink, Ensure Plus, three times a day. She had read that this was the regular diet for Muggles on feeding tubes, whose throats were too damaged by cancer-killing radiation to swallow.

Marian also read medical textbooks to herself while she sat beside him, anxiously checking out each of his symptoms in depth. But whenever he would stir restlessly, she always put her volume aside in favor of talking quietly to him, or reading Bible stories, poetry or news articles. So far, there had only been a small paragraph on page three of the paper about Severus' kidnapping from Azkaban. The _Daily Prophet_ seemed to think that Death Eaters had captured him and finished him off, as revenge for his alleged betrayal of Voldemort.

Even the language used by the writer of the article annoyed her. Severus had not 'betrayed' Voldemort; he had spent nearly twenty years in incredible danger working against him as a spy. The paper made it sound as if he had changed sides at the last minute. It related the tale of his kidnapping and presumed murder in the callous, matter-of-fact way that a Muggle paper might have reported on rival drug cartels knocking off each other's members. An underlying current ran through the story of _'Well, what did you expect?'_

This simply wouldn't do, so Marian gathered a quill and paper, perching her inkstand precariously on his bedside table, and prepared to write a couple of letters that promised to be delightful fun. With a malicious smirk that would have done Severus proud, she began: _"Dear Ms. Skeeter…"_

Marian had mixed feelings about the missive. She whiled away quite a bit of time snickering over her words to Rita Skeeter, but felt slightly guilty for throwing a fellow human being to the wolves—although journalists could be much more savage and relentless—especially the one Marian planned to contact. Rita Skeeter was a tool with many uses. Perhaps Marian's conscience would have troubled her more if she didn't constantly have in sight the mass of raw meat that used to be Severus' lovely, kissable neck. And after all, she was merely giving Rita Skeeter the first whiff of Umbridge's scent, to start her down the right trail.

She knew that Skeeter probably had a healthy fear of Umbridge after the tremendous power she had wielded under Fudge and Voldemort. But Marian gambled that once Rita found out that Umbridge had pointed the finger at her in her statement to the Aurors over Snape's kidnapping (which Marian was almost certain she had done), her own outraged vanity would provide enough of an impetus for her to target the Ministry official, outweighing other more intelligent considerations.

On the evening of the third day, Marian approached Severus to change his dressings when his eyes snapped open. They seemed rather out-of-focus and she could see at once that he lacked his usual sangfroid. His normally hard, dark eyes seemed completely unguarded. His expression made her think of an abused puppy she had seen once in her old neighborhood. Terrible pain was etched into his face, and he looked confused and frightened, unable to comprehend what had happened to him. Severus had slightly tensed and hunched over, and Marian read his posture at a glance, understanding that alongside his fear of being hurt again resided an irrational acceptance, a deep-seated shame that he deserved whatever he happened to be suffering.

Marian shuddered at his dumb agony and stepped forward, gently stroking his hair away from his cheek. Severus flinched away from her touch, struggling weakly, and she fought back the anguish she felt, realizing that he wasn't really seeing _her_, and that his shudder was merely a conditioned response. Although, she didn't know whether that realization made her feel better or worse. But she continued to caress him gently and speak soothing words to him. Her comfort gradually eased his terror. His struggles ceased and she saw his clawing grip slacken on the duvet. After a few more moments, the exhausted wizard slipped out of his semi-conscious state and back into oblivion once more.

Marian wondered what had triggered his awakening, and stayed at his side murmuring words of love and reassurance for a long while afterwards, pondering this complicated man and his secrets. Clearly, he was damaged. She had always known this—although perhaps not the extent. But most importantly, he was worth whatever effort it took to make him feel protected and cherished. Marian knew without question that she was willing to do absolutely _anything_ for this flawed, achingly loyal man with the brilliant imagination and impossible courage. She would put him first for the rest of her life, and be thankful for the privilege.

Several more days had passed since Severus' brief, panicked awakening. She barely left his side, not wanting him to wake up and find himself alone. Marian read to him and made much of him, making sure that he received generous doses of pain potion. It had not been a very high priority to her before, at least not compared to keeping his wounds under control; but after witnessing him wake up with pain- and fear-clouded eyes, Marian suspected that he was hurting even in his sleep, and acted to remedy it by upping his dosage.

One evening, she was reading the unconscious man the story of Ruth, of how the young widow had left her home to follow her old mother-in-law into a foreign land with no money or prospects, and how the Lord had taken care of them and found Ruth a man that was worthy of her. It was a lovely story, and she read it to him in a low, intimate voice, while she gently stroked his wrist. Marian happened to glance up and faltered, because his considering dark eyes were open and fixed on her face.

"Severus! You're awake!" she exclaimed, and then, to her horror, her eyes suddenly filled with tears. She had been so worried, so scared that she would never see the light of intelligence in him ever again. The tender way he regarded her only made it more difficult for her to stop crying. Furiously wiping her face, ashamed of herself, she finally took a deep breath and said, "I know that there's a lot you want to know, and I'll tell you everything. Don't try to speak. That horrible snake caused a lot of damage to your throat, and you're healing, but it would probably hurt if you tried to talk now. If you're thirsty, blink once."

He watched her steadily and, with his lips set in a rather ironic cast, blinked deliberately one time. Marian blushed, taking the straw and the water glass and gently placing the pad of her thumb on his lower lip to encourage him to open so that she could insert the straw under his tongue. She didn't understand it. For the past several days, she had been able to do even the most intimate tasks for him with no sexual feelings whatsoever. She had only felt tenderness and compassion. But now, all he had to do was look at her with those hypnotic eyes and his slightly curled lips and she was trembling for him, fighting the urge to kiss those soft lips and run her hands all over his fair, sinewy body. What was wrong with her?

Unable to help herself, she stroked his cheek with her fingertips and breathed passionately, "_I missed you so much_," caressing each syllable as she longed to caress all of him. He closed his heavy eyelids for a moment and looked almost…happy.

When he focused on her again, Marian asked, "Are you in pain? Blink once for yes, twice for no."

He seemed to deliberate with himself for a moment, before blinking twice. Marian smiled sympathetically and asked, "Do you mean that you're hurting, but want to hear the news before I give you another pain-reliever?"

He blinked once adamantly, appearing satisfied that she understood him. Marian got straight to the point. "Severus," she began, "the Dark Lord is dead, and all of his horcruxes are destroyed."

A profound expression of relief settled over his pain-drawn face, but a moment later, he looked worried again and rasped out, _"Harry?"_

Severus winced at the effort it took to speak and Marian's heart swelled with compassion, although she couldn't deny the pleasure she felt at hearing his voice again, even if his normally silky tones weren't in evidence. "He's alive," she answered honestly, adding, "but the horcrux is destroyed. The Dark Lord fired a Killing Curse at him with the Elder Wand. It destroyed the part of his soul that was lodged in Harry, but didn't kill the boy himself, because the wand wouldn't hurt its true master."

Surprised, but mollified, Severus then asked, _"Draco?"_

Marian related that Draco and the rest of the Malfoys were alive. As she prepared to launch into an account of how Narcissa had saved Harry, Severus' eyelids began to droop. She could tell that he was fighting to stay awake, but he was as weak as a day-old child. Moments later, he faded back into unconsciousness.


	30. Chapter 30

Chapter 30: A Delicate Balance

Now that he had regained awareness once, Marian felt considerably more confident in his complete recovery, only fearing infection. She was able to take care of a few important orders of business that she had been putting off while things were touch-and-go with Severus. The first thing she did was to go into her den and Floo-call the Burrow. She felt fairly certain that Harry Potter had ended his deliberate isolation by now, and thought that the Weasley residence would be the place to find him. She had finally destroyed her remaining listening device a few days before, when she had heard Harry and Ginny begin to 'celebrate' with each other.

A smiling Molly Weasley answered her call, her eyes bright with joy and surprise. But even amidst her happiness and relief at seeing her missing friend, Molly couldn't forbear scolding her, "What were you thinking disappearing like that and not answering the door when we came to call? We were so worried about you! No one has seen you since the battle. I almost filled out a missing person's report! I would have done it, but Arthur told me that the Aurors were so busy running down all the escaped Death Eaters that they wouldn't make finding you a priority. He said it might be a week or two before anyone started looking! And then Tonks told me that she had seen you after the battle. She thought you might need some time to yourself after what happened to Sev—I mean, after the trauma of battle."

Marian smiled a bit sheepishly, touched and embarrassed at the older woman's concern. "I'm sorry I didn't get in touch. I wanted to, but I've been doing something so important that this is the first time I've had a moment to call my own," she responded.

"I believe it. You look awful, dear! Have you been sleeping? I'll bet it's the nightmares. The boys have been having them and I've had to make them chamomile tea before bed every night. It seems to help. Would you like the recipe?" she asked hopefully.

Marian laughed, "No, I'm afraid that _work,_ rather than nightmares, is to blame for my lack of sleep….Besides Molly, you know how much I hate tea."

"Well, if you're going to be a Brit, you had better acquire a taste for it," Molly answered imperiously, but there was a giveaway twinkle in her eye.

"Molly, you know very well that I would never pass for anything other than an American. And as far as tea goes, I've always had a strange tendency to drink things that actually taste _good._ Since I managed to grow up in the South despising sweet iced tea, I'm afraid there's no chance of me coming around to the even less palatable, hot variety," she countered, adding, "By the way, is Harry here? I need to speak to him as soon as possible."

"He's here. Still abed, no doubt. I'll go and fetch him for you," she answered, bustling off.

Marian had a sneaking suspicion that Molly was going to use this as an excuse to wake Ron up to do chores, because the two boys would be sleeping in the same room.

After a few moments, she found herself nearly nose-to-nose with a sleep-rumpled Harry, whose hair was sticking up proudly at improbably angles.

"Marian!" he exclaimed, "I'm so glad you're okay. I knew you were at the battle, and wanted to speak with you after, but you had already gone. And then I just needed to get away from everything for a while. I had hoped to avoid dealing with reporters for a few days—not that that plan has worked out too well," and then he added wryly, "Have you seen the paper lately?"

"I have—and thank you, by the way, for everything you did. It must have taken an unbelievable amount of courage to walk out to face Voldemort, knowing that you were going to your death," she said earnestly.

His cheeks pinked a bit and he answered, "I _had_ to do it. You understand."

"Yes," she nodded gravely.

After a pause, she said, "I need to talk to you—about Severus Snape."

An expression of pain flashed across his face and he murmured, "It was so terrible. Being right there, knowing what was going to happen, yet unable to stop it. And then finding out later that he was a hero, and that he had still been alive when we left him there…he spent his last moments being tortured by Death Eaters….It's obscene. But we're going to find out who kidnapped him and make them pay," he finished fiercely.

She was touched by his indignation on her love's behalf, and decided to take the direct approach with him. Marian took a deep breath and replied quietly, "Harry, _I_ have him. I broke him out of Azkaban and have been taking care of him."

The look on his face was almost comical. "_You_ have him? Merlin! I thought Death Eaters had stolen his body and that he would be long dead by now. Will he be alright, do you think?" he asked uncertainly.

Then Marian told him everything, how she had found Severus, how he had given up his opportunity to activate his portkey in favor of giving Harry the information he needed when he was bleeding out in the Shrieking Shack, and how she had connived his rescue and dragged Dolores Umbridge into the public eye.

When she paused for breath, he impulsively asked, "Can I see him?"

Marian considered for a moment and then said, "I don't think that would be a very good idea right now. He sleeps most of the time—in fact, he's only woken up once. But if he did wake up and see you he might feel a bit violated, seeing you in his bedroom and everything. He's a very proud man, and wouldn't want to show any weakness—especially in front of a former student, and the effort would put a terrible strain on him. Right now he can't really speak, or get out of bed. He is barely breathing without the supplemental oxygen. I never leave his side for more than ten minutes at a time….Let's give him a few weeks before I try to get his permission. Or if you like, you could write him a letter and I'll read it to him."

"That's fine," he said, adding in an odd tone, "I don't suppose that even after everything he would want to see me."

"Harry, that's not true. His throat is mangled and it's very painful for him to speak right now. I tried to get him to answer me by blinking, but you know how impatient he is, and he cut right to the chase. The first thing he said was, 'Harry?'—not 'Potter', but 'Harry'. He had known you were a Horcrux for some time, but believed there was a way you could get rid of it and survive. He hoped that you could….In any case, it was obvious from his expression when he asked me that he didn't only care about your Horcrux being destroyed, but also desperately wanted you to be alive," she said gently.

"What else did he say?" asked Harry, in a small voice.

"Only one more thing. He asked about Draco," she answered, "After I told him that he was alive, he lost consciousness. He hasn't been awake since."

Harry was feeling overwhelmed by his emotions, so he had to make a concerted effort to lighten the mood. He cleared his throat and asked jokily, "So why am I the one you're confiding in about this? I assume it's not to turn yourself in for kidnapping and prison-breaking."

"Would those be two separate charges?" she laughed.

"You ought to get more than that, but Umbridge got what was coming to her, so I'll drop the assault, home invasion, and identity theft charges," Harry teased, "Although, based on how the Aurors found her, there may be room for some sort of sexual assault charge as well."

"Good Lord, no!" she choked out, "Don't even say things like that, Harry!"

Determination chased the amusement off her face and, suddenly businesslike, she said, "Now that you're wizarding Britain's greatest hero, you have an incredible amount of power. I want you to use your influence to help Severus."

He nodded vigorously. "Of course," Harry answered sincerely.

She beamed at him in gratitude and outlined her requests, "Alright, this is what I want done. Ironically, Umbridge herself is about to come under investigation for war crimes, if Rita Skeeter's loyal audience has anything to say about it, so she will no longer be able to push forward Professor Snape's trial. Since everyone assumes he's dead, I doubt there will be any impetus to try a dead man, with all of the other issues that need to be handled. But Harry, I want you to get him a trial.

"Before he died, Dumbledore gave me a box filled with memories that will help exonerate him. Here they are—please get them admitted as evidence. Combined with those, Dumbledore's portrait, and the Pensieve memories Severus gave you, your testimony ought to acquit him. You can talk about how he gave the Death Eaters a forgery of the Sword of Gryffindor and delivered the original to you for hunting Horcruxes, and about how he saved your life several times, especially when he informed the Order that you and your friends had gone to the Department of Mysteries. He could easily have blown his cover then, because there was really only one probable reason for why the Order showed up so opportunely."

"When she paused for breath, Harry said, "Alright, I'll get him his trial. When do you think he'll be well enough to face the tribunal?"

"No, Harry! I won't put him through that! There is no need for him to go back and sit in that horrible chair with the chains, and face the hate and derision of his accusers and the wizarding public. I won't allow him to be anywhere near a Dementor—not after the year he just had! And I won't have him put in a holding cell in Azkaban in his breakable condition, and subject to the brutality of the guards and the other prisoners, almost all Death Eaters. It could be months—_years_, if there are complications—before he is fully recovered….Harry, he's so…fragile."

Marian was unable to hide the depth of her love and grief for Snape as she confided in Harry. He marveled at this development, but wisely said nothing.

Marian continued stridently, "I want him to be tried in absentia, and if the Wizengamot assumes he has been kidnapped and tortured to death by renegade Death Eaters, then that will help his case all the more. He shouldn't have to go through all the stress of an investigation and trial. I want his cleared name to be a _fait accompli_ by the time he's well enough to start worrying about it.

"In fact, it isn't enough for him to be acquitted of war crimes. Almost everyone under forty in wizarding Britain knows him. They either went to school with him or had children under him, and most have bad feelings towards him for his youth as a Death Eater, his partiality to Slytherin House, and the way he was forced to run the school this past year. If he is ever going to have the slightest chance of walking the streets without people spitting on him, then he needs to be acknowledged as a hero. He should receive an award for his services in the war. Something prestigious—I think one of your Orders of Merlin First Class ought to do the trick."

"Oh, is that all you want?" Harry asked, impressed and exasperated at the same time, "You don't want me to get him made Minister of Magic while I'm at it, do you?"

"Ha! No, but since you're still offering favors, I also want you to make sure that all of his belongings at Hogwarts and Spinner's End are protected, as well as whatever bank accounts he has. None of his things should be searched, tampered with or confiscated. Also Draco Malfoy's safety and wellbeing are really important to him. I think he's his godson or something. So if you could show up for his trial and put a good word in for him, it might shift the ruling in his favor….And, it would be really great if you could get Severus' wand back. I think it's at Azkaban—although they could still have it at St. Mungo's, I suppose," she added, tilting her head in thought.

Harry laughed heartily, "Well, I don't know what he did to get you on his side, but he's a lucky man. I'll try to do everything you've asked. I certainly owe him enough! Is there anything else you need?"

Marian smiled fleetingly at him and then added, "Just don't tell anyone else about him yet, alright? Now that the war is won, he is my only concern. I want him to be safe, and not troubled by anything. Besides," her eyes hardened for a moment, "As far as I can tell, no one valued him beyond his usefulness, so it shouldn't devastate anyone if we delay breaking the news for a while—at least until we have a favorable verdict."

Harry nodded soberly, "This is going to be a hard secret to keep, but I think you're probably right. Anyway, I'll floo you when I know something. By the way, you aren't staying in your house in Glastonbury, are you?"

"No," she confirmed, and then added, "But you can reach me through the Glastonbury house. Just Apparate in and I'll be notified and can floo right to you. Keep in touch and thanks, Harry. You don't know how much this means. Say hello to everyone for me, will you?"

"Will do," he smiled, and then found himself staring at ordinary yellow flames, instead of the face that had been there moments before.

The rest of the day passed rather uneventfully, and Marian spent it at Severus' bedside. Now that he had woken once, she kept anticipating that he would open his eyes again any minute, but he slept on, to her secret disappointment. That night was a rather difficult one, as he developed a fever in the early evening. She had been alarmed over his high risk of infection from the beginning, and had taken scrupulous pains to keep his wounds as contamination-free as possible. And she had partly succeeded, because the bites themselves had not grown infected. Unfortunately, Severus was very weak, and his immune system had become dangerously compromised with the loss of so many red blood cells.

Disturbed by what this fever might portend, Marian stayed up with him all night, watching him carefully. She checked his temperature every fifteen minutes after she spelled Fever-Reducing Potion into his body. The fever stopped rising at 104 degrees, but held there for a while, dropping all too slowly, about one degree per hour. Marian gently cooled his face with a damp cloth, hating the showy red blotches, which seemed tawdry and unnatural on his normally ivory skin.

He stirred restlessly, moaning and straining to speak through his torn vocal cords. Because he was semiconscious, there was little Marian could do to keep him from trying to talk. She considered Dreamless Sleep potion, but it was very powerful and she didn't know how it would mix with his other potions. She finally settled on a Calming Draught, but it had only limited success when dealing with the terrors of his fever-ridden, subconscious mind. Marian wished fervently that she had Draught of Peace. It would be the perfect potion for the situation. But it was notoriously difficult to brew, and for this reason, very costly. However, something other than the price gave her pause. She had found out that unless the potion was made absolutely perfectly, it would kill whoever imbibed it. Marian hesitated to place that much trust in a faceless potioneer.

And so she had cooled him with a damp rag and tried to soothe him, singing and talking to him quietly. Horrified that she had probably been the one to give him an infection, she placed a bubble-head charm on herself, and for good measure, one on Ms. Bear as well. Marian was considering giving him a cool bath in the early hours of the morning, because he was sweating into his sheets, but just as she made up her mind, his fever broke, and he finally lapsed into a deep, peaceful sleep. Not wanting to disturb his much-needed rest, she cast a drying charm on him and decided to bathe him in a few hours. She could change his linens then.

Carefully placing a charm to alert her if his temperature began climbing again, Marian prepared to take a nap in the chair. But even after she snuggled up with her puppy in the recliner, surrounded with pillows and blankets, Marian continued to watch him for a good while. His pale, noble face had always seemed so strong and harsh, but there was something ethereal about it these days. Suffering had given him an added dignity. To Marian, he seemed very beautiful. Even the lines on his face added to his appeal.

The next day, she woke up in the early afternoon. Severus still slept, and after carefully checking on him, she decided to make herself something to eat before she gave him his bath. The past few days she had barely touched food, grabbing whatever required no preparation and lay within reach. But Marian decided at the last minute that she didn't want to be away from him for the time it would take to cook something on the stove, and so she opted to microwave a can of chicken noodle soup instead. She knew that Molly would shake her head in horror if she ever visited this kitchen, but Marian felt that certain Muggle inventions like the refrigerator and the microwave were even more ingenious than many of the wizarding culinary options.

When she returned to his bedside with her steaming bowl of soup and a few crackers on the side, he was still softly sleeping. Marian supposed that he had years of sleepless nights to make up for. Once she finished eating, she readied the bath, although she felt a little apprehensive. She didn't want him to wake up to find her touching him without his permission, even if it was only to try to keep him clean and healthy.

Marian levitated him into the bathroom, thinking that it would be wonderful when he would wake up and could answer some of her questions about his condition, so that she wouldn't only be operating on her own assumptions. She wanted him to wake, but not just yet.

She settled Severus into the tub, deciding this time that she would wash his body before tending to his hair. Marian badly needed a bath herself. She had rather let herself go while she was taking care of him. Having much admired the spell Severus used to make the water opaque, she had tried to find it. When that had failed, she had tried to develop it on her own, but the closest she had come was to make the water rather blurry. She never achieved the glorious shining opalescence of Severus' spell, but, by the same token, she had been unwilling to devote much time to that particular charm, since it didn't do anything particularly critical.

Blushing, and checking carefully to see that he was still unconscious, Marian disrobed and stepped into the water. The tub was large, and she scrubbed herself clean, feeling the bliss that only those that have known nothing but grunge for quite some time can appreciate. She had no need for shaving. Marian had made use of a very old, obscure Chinese charm that removed the hair, and then she had added her spell to it to make it permanent. She couldn't put a price on all the time she had saved through this charm over the past couple of years.

She washed her hair twice, before gliding over to Severus. This wasn't exactly how she had imagined their first bath together, she thought ironically, as she tenderly washed beneath his arm, careful not to disturb all the torn muscle in the area. Marian kept him covered as she had before until he was safely submerged below the waist, although, when the time came to wash his hair, she could think of no way to do it without bringing their bare bodies dangerously close together. It was true that she had viewed his unconscious form with compassion, rather than lust, but even so, she didn't want to push herself too far. Their bare, soapy flesh pressed together, her soft breasts against his hard shoulder….She was still a woman, after all.

And with that thought, she was forced to exit the tub earlier than she had intended and throw on a robe. She washed his hair as she had the last time, sitting on the tiled floor. Marian had eyed him critically all the while, looking for infection and for any sign that his wounds were healing. They still looked nearly as horrific as they had when he had been first injured, and it troubled her to see this. The edges of the punctures were slightly crusted over, but she had expected that magic would have made his mutilated flesh knit far more quickly than it was. She sneered at herself, thinking that she might as well be doing things the Muggle way, for all the progress she could see.

Later, once he was safely back in the freshly-changed bed, she sat at his side, reading the paper and wearing a summery gown of gray-blue, which was so lightweight that it would be equally appropriate for sleep or daywear. As the sun began to sink in the sky, sending spears of dappled light through the trees and in the window, Severus finally woke from his profound slumber.

This time, he did not catch her unawares, for she happened to be watching him when he began to stir. His eyes fluttered open and she immediately rose and approached his bedside. His bottomless eyes drank her in, shining darker and even more hypnotic than usual against his fever-pinked cheeks. She could tell at once that he was himself. He seemed almost luminous with reason and understanding, more spirit than flesh.

Marian stared at him for some moments, before looking away and blushing. She knew that her eyes had been filled with a palpable longing for him. How she had missed him! The months that had separated them had been very painful. Trying to recover her composure, she mimicked her question of the day before, asking, "Severus, are you thirsty?"

"Yes," he rasped out, before she could caution him to be careful of his voice. Marian brought the water over and repeated her earlier action of drawing a little up in a straw and slipping it under his tongue.

This seemed to make him a little impatient and he said, "No….A drink."

"I don't know whether I should. You might not be able to swallow it," she answered doubtfully, but held the straw to his lips anyway, reasoning that she could vanish the liquid if it slipped down the wrong tube. Even though his sips were weak and very slow, Severus managed to swallow a little. There was a look of curious satisfaction on his face as she placed the glass back on the bedside table. In amused exasperation, she realized that he was pleased with himself over having proven her wrong. She had the feeling that he was going to be a far more difficult patient awake than he had been asleep.

Deciding to forestall his inevitable questions, she directed gently, "Severus, don't try to speak. Just blink once for yes. How do you feel?"

He fixed her with a disbelieving look, and curled his lip in that way he had whenever he was about to say something cutting. She decided to anticipate his retort and murmured, "I know, my dear. That was stupid of me. You feel awful. I'll give you a pain-reliever at once."

His scowl relaxed a little as the potion took effect. She had spelled it directly into him, as she was wont to do. "What happened?" he asked hoarsely, forcing the words out with an effort and completely disregarding her attempt to spare his throat.

She fixed him with an affectionate, yet severe glance and he looked momentarily abashed. "Alright, I'll tell you everything," Marian responded. She had many questions for him about how he was feeling and what body parts he was able to move, but she decided that they could wait. After all, if she were in his position, she would be burning with impatience to learn about what had taken place while she was unconscious.

She began to tell him about the final battle, but he dropped off again before she made it very far into the tale. It took three more days before she managed to convey the whole story. He had looked upset when she explained about her part in the action, and she clasped his hand in hers, letting her soft touch plead for his understanding.

Marian described the destruction of each horcrux in detail and explained about how Narcissa Malfoy had saved Harry Potter. When she talked about the final duel between Harry and the Dark Lord, she didn't even try to hide the fact that she had run off before it had barely begun, to try and save Severus.

"Severus, it was terrible. I ran to the Shrieking Shack, and I couldn't get in. When I finally made a hole big enough in the door, I searched everywhere, but I couldn't find you," she related, her anguish returning as she remembered her panic and heartbreak. Suddenly, something in her broke, and she was sobbing into her hands. To her horror, her whole body shook with uncontrollable weeping. He made a movement towards her, but winced immediately, looking a bit alarmed when he realized that his right arm wouldn't obey his commands.

"Marian," he croaked with an effort, and she looked up, tears sparkling in her eyes.

"I'm sorry," he broke in suddenly, his eyes meeting hers meaningfully.

"Sorry? You have nothing to be sorry for. You couldn't have done anything else. _I'm_ sorry. I don't know what came over me. I never meant to burst into tears and distress you," Marian responded, surreptitiously wiping her eyes.

He struggled to speak, finding it difficult to say more than a few words. "_No_…I could have activated the portkey after Potter left, but I knew I was dying. Didn't want you to see me like that—like _this_. Didn't want…you to suffer," he breathed.

Marian couldn't help herself. She approached the bed and stroked his cheek, his temple. "My darling," she answered thickly, "It turned out for the best. If you had portkeyed to me immediately, I wouldn't have had the skill to save you. But Lucius Malfoy had the presence of mind to heal your artery and give you blood-replenisher, and the healers put a stasis charm on your wounds that was far beyond my skill."

She regained command of herself, ashamedly dashing away the moisture and sniffing to try to keep her nose from dripping. But she saw no condemnation in his steady gaze, only tenderness. Drawn inexorably towards his warmth, Marian dropped to her knees beside him, placing one of her hands delicately atop his. He seemed as though he would speak, but grimaced to himself and kept silent, although he awkwardly brought his left hand across his body to tentatively stroke her hair.

Surprised by his act and leaning into his feeble strokes, she told him the rest of the story, all about her adventures with Polyjuice and his rescue from Azkaban. He regarded her with a new light in his eyes, a look that was something akin to worship. But Marian was oblivious, and tried to draw his attention away from her earlier loss of control by lifting the mood. She teased, "How does it feel to have joined the illustrious ranks of those few that have managed to escape Azkaban?"

He snorted softly, and she knew that he was thinking that there wasn't anything particularly flattering about being lumped in with Sirius Black or Bellatrix LeStrange and her ilk.

He seemed to be growing tired again, but listened and shuddered as she related the extent of his injuries, and the countermeasures she had taken. When she told him all she knew, he asked hesitatingly, "Am I partially paralyzed?"

"What? Of course not. Why do you ask?" Marian responded, trying to hide her alarm.

"I can't move my neck…or my arm," he said, looking distinctly worried. Marian knew that for a potioneer, losing an arm meant far more than it would for an ordinary person, although it would be bad enough, in any case. But Severus was a skilled craftsman. To lose the ability to brew would be unthinkable—a horror not worth contemplating. Especially for a man like Severus, whose sense of self-worth came from his usefulness.

She rushed to alleviate his fears, "Don't worry. I checked carefully, and there was no damage to your spinal cord—a miracle, really. You can't move your head and right arm right now because of all the muscle damage. But I expect you to make a complete recovery."

He shot her one of his probing glances that made her feel nearly as exposed as actual Legilimency, and seemed to realize that she was telling the truth, because he settled down again.

In spite of his bravado, it did hurt him to speak. Every movement pained him, and so they engaged in very little conversation. She cherished him and talked to him quietly, anticipating his needs and focusing on healing and caring for him with all of her considerable intensity. Severus both loved and hated this, and, depending on his mood, reacted accordingly. Some days he was very sulky, lying in bed listlessly wearing a forbidding expression. But other days, he would follow her every motion with soft, caressing eyes, and she could sense his appreciation. But even on his bad days, his intense, protective gaze flickered to her whenever she entered the room.

Marian was infinitely patient with him. She had always known that he was a melancholy, mercurial man, fiercely private and independent, who was accustomed to doing everything for himself as well as for everyone else. Judging by what she had heard about his post-torture behavior, he had made a habit of licking his wounds in secret, never seeking medical attention. She knew that it had to be humiliating for him to feel so helpless, so utterly at her mercy. And so Marian tried to make his situation easier by never letting an impatient expression or cross word escape her.

She wanted to make sure that he knew she found nurturing him a pleasure, rather than a burden. And that was the truth. Even at his worst, Marian couldn't stand the thought of his care ever devolving to anyone else. She adored him so completely that even if he _had_ been paralyzed, she would have been content to spend her life tending to him, and would have stayed celibate forever with no complaints, as long as she could be near the man that she loved irrevocably. As far as she was concerned, it was her mission in life to shield him and make sure that no one could ever hurt him again.

Severus may have been moody sometimes, but he would have been thousands of times worse with anyone else overseeing his cure. He never spoke roughly to Marian, although he did have a tendency to brood. His position bothered him, for he felt like he was the ball-and-chain tethered to this beautiful, accomplished witch. And what troubled him the most was when he caught himself _enjoying_ her care. He felt that he was a man of action, and should be repulsed by his position as an invalid. But her gentle, capable presence and the quiet, cozy room comforted him, made him feel safe and cared for. He had never been on the receiving end of such tenderness, and had secretly craved it all his life.

But he realized all too well that when it came to Marian, the simplest things had the ability to undo him. Even though Severus was hypovolemic and weak as a kitten, he still desired her, still found her irresistibly tempting. His emotional craving for her went far beyond anything he had ever felt or imagined. And yet, she had no idea of her power.

That evening, she approached his bed and bent towards his face, causing his pulse to jump dramatically. When her lips hovered gently above his forehead, he murmured, "What are you doing?"

"Checking for fever," she breathed, pressing her lips gently to his skin for several seconds, while his nose grazed the satiny hollow of her throat and breathed in her delicate perfume. He felt the warmth of her body around him as she braced herself on the pillow beside his head. When she pulled away, his cheeks looked even more flushed.

"You're aware, are you not, that there's a charm for that?" he questioned slightly breathlessly, with a raised eyebrow.

"_Is_ there," she responded archly, before leaving the room with a queenly gait.

Severus had missed her—it seemed that he had always been missing her-but during the last year, his longing grew so powerful that it made him ashamed. After she had left Hogwarts, he had been unable to bear his bedchamber. He couldn't go back and sleep on the bed they had shared together, her scent still on his pillows, so he had erected a cot and a temporary wall to hide his enormous four-poster from view. No more fires were lit in that grate. Many were the nights he had lain sleepless; clutching the portkey she had given him so tightly that the small coin nearly cut into his hand.

He had used Dumbledore's Pensieve to revisit his memories of her. It grew into almost a daily ritual. He needed to look at her, to hear her voice. His soul was literally starving for her. She had always been happy to see him, had always accepted him and seen the best in him. Marian had searched out all his secret virtues and good deeds, while sparing no attention for his shortcomings. Severus had known that he would never be whole, never free of suffering, until she was with him once more.

And now that he had unexpectedly found himself in her home, he was feeling very brittle, trying to stay strong and detached, but hopelessly affected by her soothing touches. She treated him so carefully, as though he were something precious. Her caresses were steeped in reverence. They were never impersonal, which, until Marian's, had been the only kind he had ever experienced. He had needed consolation for so long, and not found it. The fear and horror he had endured had left wounds just as deep and deadly as Nagini's fangs. These, compounded with his chronic, lifelong sufferings, overwhelmed him, and he sensed that he was teetering on the edge of a nervous breakdown. His hurts were painful, and ran soul-deep, but he had tried to ignore them, tried not to _feel_. Every time Marian touched him, Severus longed with quiet desperation to lean into her hand. He feared that one day he would begin to weep and wouldn't be able to stop.


	31. Chapter 31

Chapter 31: Closer

Marian watched him as he lay in bed, too weak to do much more than flutter an eyelid—eyelids, she noted, that had long inky lashes that brushed against his pale cheeks. She knew he wasn't asleep, because when he slept on his back he snored lightly, and he was forced to keep this position because of the injury. Since he had first woken up, she had spent a lot of time by his bedside simply drinking him in, watching his expressions, the thoughts as they flickered past. He was still enigmatic, even at his weakest. Marian didn't know what he needed from her. On his bad days, she wondered whether she should give him space or draw nearer. It was difficult to tell, but she knew that she _definitely_ didn't want to smother him—although her desire to keep him from feeling isolated was equally strong. She usually compromised, choosing not to touch him, but not to leave his room. She would read silently and do a little research, not wanting to disturb him.

One day, she was just about to go hunt for a book for herself, when suddenly the implications of him being awake occurred to her. She realized that someone with such an active mind would probably be bored, and she wondered whether he might possibly prefer a story to the perpetual silence. On a whim, she asked, "Would you like for me to read to you?"

He made a noncommittal sound, which she took for assent. Ill and feeble as he currently was, Severus still had no problem making himself understood when he _didn't_ want something.

"Any preferences?" she asked, not really expecting an answer.

"Anything….something you like," he rasped out, wincing slightly.

Momentarily shocked by his uncharacteristic answer, Marian held out her hand and caught her copy of _The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe_ that had flown to her from the other room. Marian was exceptionally well-read, in Muggle and Wizarding lore, but she still considered C.S. Lewis' _Chronicles of Narnia_ to be some of the dearest and most profound books she had ever encountered. She didn't know if Severus had ever read much Muggle literature, although she suspected that he had, considering that he was the sort of person that was interested in and seemed to know about everything. She could have chosen scholarly articles or something she knew he typically read, but wanted to share this with him. She figured he could appreciate a redemption story. Besides, she had nothing to lose. She could begin the story, and if he disliked it, she was certain he would let her know.

So began their daily routine. She would read to him for hours, and he would watch her through half-closed lids. Marian didn't notice that he couldn't take his eyes off of her. She had no idea how lovely she seemed to him, with her legs curled beneath her, and a small cream-colored puppy curled up against her diaphanous skirts. Her grave eyes constantly flashed up to meet his as she read, and it was a curious, delightful experience for Severus, who had always been a solitary reader. Her expressive glances made him feel that they were comrades, having these adventures together in a secret world.

Sometimes in the evening, she would release her long dark hair from its bindings, and its highlights burned gold and copper in the light from the setting sun. Severus was in nirvana. Her soft voice soothed him and he found her presence and the wonderful stories comforting. Slowly, he began to mend—and not only his snake bites. The horrors of his splintered childhood, and broken adulthood, gradually faded to the back of his mind, and he remembered things he had long forgotten—the simple, innocent truths that he had scorned on his way to power. He had pushed his way past them, eager to delve into forbidden knowledge and dark complexities, which had made him wretched, hollow, rotten in the end. But these tales were wholesome, filled with truth, and made beautiful with the threads of love, honor, sacrifice, courage…redemption. And Severus saw that they were good.

They quickly finished _The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe_ and burned through the other six in the set. He could have wept when the last book of the series finished. He felt pleasure mixed with sadness at its conclusion.

Marian gently placed it down on the bedside table and chanced a glance up at him. She noticed the stricken look on his face and spoke, with a quiet joy, "I know how you feel. It's like that for me too, every time I read them. It hurts me to leave that beautiful world, and all the dear characters. I think that I'll never find anything so happy or good ever again, and that all books after it will be a disappointment. It's like that every time I read a good book, and these are my absolute favorites, so the hurt is a hundred times worse than with any others. _But_," and she flashed him an impish grin, "There are other worlds worth visiting besides Narnia. Have you ever read J.R.R. Tolkien? He was a very good friend of C.S. Lewis, and he wrote a book called _The Hobbit_…."

Severus seemed better every day, or at least his voice was better. Because now, when he was feeling especially vulnerable, or when his wounds throbbed worse than usual, he fell back on sarcasm. He often refused pain potion when Marian offered it to him, choosing to suffer rather than have her find him weak. But when he grew especially insufferable, she would gently insist, and he would sourly capitulate.

One day, she delayed reading to him in order to do a little cooking. He was too weak to do much of anything, and he found it far less taxing (as well as more pleasurable) to let her read to him than to do it himself. He could not easily prop up a book, and had a difficult time turning the pages and keeping his place with the fuzzy head caused by his pain potions. Magic was one option for balancing a book, but he had been hesitant to try even something as simple as levitation. Severus secretly knew that he wasn't ready for that, and didn't want to face the reality of his powerlessness head-on.

Marian thought that he had improved enough to try eating some soup, since he was already drinking on his own again. She had decided to make him something especially tasty and had broken out her mother's recipe for vegetable soup.

Left to his own devices for about an hour, Severus lay back against his recently-plumped pillows, peevishly plucking at the bedclothes with his left hand, and glancing out the French doors. Marian had offered to bring her Muggle television out of the den for him, but he had refused. He was feeling very nervous and irritable, and all of his childhood memories of TV recalled arguing voices and raucous, canned laughter. He also declined because he worried that perhaps Marian wouldn't spend as much time with him reading, if she saw that he had an alternate source of entertainment.

Examining his room for the thousandth time, he once again reluctantly admired her taste. The furniture was heavy oak-antique, by the look of it, and carved with curious symbols and designs. He could only turn his head a few millimeters, and was unable to see the headboard, although he could_ feel_ the gentle flow of magic all around him and suspected that Marian had carved runes into it for protection and sweet sleep. The bed was not a four-poster and it lacked the heavy hangings found on those at Hogwarts, although he could see sheer blue-gray curtains out of the corner of his eye that matched the panels around the French doors, and assumed that there must be some sort of bed crown mounted on the wall. The valances over the door frame caught his eye with their colorful silver and blue threads and slightly exotic feel. They looked like something one would buy at a bazaar in the Far East.

After a moment, he reflected that that was almost certainly where she had picked them up. He could imagine her, wandering through the markets with curious, happy eyes, drinking in the smell of spices….For a moment he imagined how lovely it would be to visit the far corners of the world with her. And then he wondered who had accompanied her on her adventures before. Severus felt a stab of fierce jealousy at the faceless, possibly nonexistent person.

Pouting slightly, he gazed outside once again. The daylight shone clear, sharply defining each delicately-veined leaf. As mid-summer approached, all possessed the rich, variegated greens of leaves in their prime. The weather was perfect, and he longed to be outside and feel the warmth seep into his skin, the balmy breeze on his face—a desire that surprised this denizen of the dungeons. But after all, he reasoned to himself, he _had_ been forced to spend most of the past year imprisoned in a tower. That would give anyone a touch of cabin fever-and being laid up in bed only made things worse.

Craning as much as possible—which wasn't very much at all-he could see out onto a balcony overlooking a downward sloping hill, with trees spaced closely together, but not too closely. He suspected that the hike up to the distant ridge would be a lovely one, and intended to see if Marian would venture out with him when he felt better.

Severus was distracted from his daydreams of walking through rocky hills and summer forests by a delightful aroma emanating from the kitchen. Of late, his mood had lacked stability. It could change in a moment, almost before he himself was aware that it had shifted. All at once, his irritation rushed back full-force, and he cursed his weak condition, wishing that he could join Marian in the other room. He hated letting her out of his sight. It made him feel anxious and strangely vulnerable. He didn't like it at all.

When she returned, having left the cornbread in the oven and the vegetable soup simmering on the stove, she sat in her usual spot and picked up her stationary, intending to answer some correspondence. Severus felt inexplicably annoyed by her inattention to him, and his eyes narrowed as he watched her write. Marian cocked her head to the side and her eyes grew distant as her thoughts manifested in a flowing black script across the thick parchment. They stayed this way for quite a while—Severus growing more and more tense and agitated while Marian remained obliviously wrapped up in her own activity.

Finally, just as Severus was running out of patience and about to interrupt her work, the state of affairs was disrupted by none other than Ms. Bear. The puppy had been growing as bored as Severus. After all, the little dog had not been on a real walk in two weeks. And so she brought a squeaky cat toy into the room and put her forepaws up on Marian, shattering her concentration. As she bemusedly accepted the toy in order to toss it for the puppy, her eyes met Severus' instinctively and she smiled ruefully at him.

But it was one of Severus' bad days. His neck throbbed and his bitterness had only been exacerbated by feeling neglected. So instead of returning her smile, he responded irritably, surliness dripping from every word.

"A little white lapdog. Such an…uninspiring choice for a familiar. It_ is_ your familiar, I presume," he remarked, curling his lip. "Or perhaps merely a…_pet_. Although _possibly_…you're fattening it up as a snack for your Animagus form," he added, pretending that the thought had just occurred to him.

He exasperated Marian, but secretly, she didn't mind his petty streak that went, well, a mile wide and just as deep. In her mind, it made him more human, more reachable. It was all too easy for her to put him on a pedestal, to see him as the suffering spy, the dark, misunderstood hero capable of brilliant and terrible works of magic. In her time away from him, she sometimes forgot his petty, irritable, and often malicious side; but upon their reacquaintance, she found she had missed this flawed side of him. The two men were the same, and Marian found Severus a rather heady combination.

So she grinned at his snide comments and addressed his question, "Very funny, Severus. Yes, Ms. Bear is my familiar….And that is something I don't understand, why the wizarding world persists in limiting familiars to three specific animals. It's tradition, no doubt—but honestly, a toad is a ridiculous choice. It's a useless creature; an owl leaves much to be desired, and a cat, well…." She made a moue of displeasure and trailed off, shrugging her shoulders dismissively. She thought nothing more needed to be said, but Severus was spoiling for a fight and not willing to drop the subject so easily.

"I take it there's something about a cat's nature you object to?" he murmured archly.

"Well, yes," she replied, seeing at once that he was in an argumentative mood, although this hardly bothered her. She continued, "I have no great love for cats. I admire their grace and independence, their cunning—even their ferocity. But these qualities aren't exactly enough to inspire my love."

He stiffened almost imperceptibly after her reply. "I see," he said frostily. "You love things that are…soft, and have no will of their own, completely content to follow you about and nose after whatever treats you're inclined to bestow."

Marian blinked in surprise, wondering where this sudden hostility was coming from. He had seemed mild enough a few moments before. She wondered if he was getting tired, or if she had inadvertently offended him. Perhaps he had had a beloved cat as a familiar once, so when she answered him, she spoke a little more carefully than before.

"Well, Ms. Bear rarely does what I say, if that counts for anything," she said smilingly, trying to lighten the mood a bit, "and it's not that I don't value the qualities a cat possesses—I admire them very much. But admiration is not love. Cats are completely self-interested creatures. Simply put, I love Ms. Bear because she loves me—because she prefers me to every other living thing. I love her for her loyalty, her protectiveness and companionship. When she does a trick well and shows intelligence, I'm proud of her. When she chases squirrels and I see her speed, I appreciate her. But these qualities—her cleverness, her downy white coat, and all her graceful ways—only help me justify to myself what I already feel about her, a natural, completely irrational affection. Love begets love, but I have never yet seen it reflected at me from the eyes of a cat."

"Cats just aren't as demonstrative. It's not in their nature to fawn all over you—like that idiotic creature is doing now. Cats ambush from the shadows; dogs are pack hunters that run down their prey—well, _most_ of them are," he added, giving Ms. Bear a dark glance, and Marian hugged her protectively to her side, looking at him defiantly, although a grin tugged at her lips. Severus continued, "Subtlety is the defining characteristic of a cat. Perhaps it's not that it's incapable of love, but that you're incapable of perceiving it."

Too caught up in the argument to recognize his subtext, Marian countered obliviously, "Think about it like this, if you somehow shrank yourself so that you were only a few inches tall, a good pet dog would let you ride on his back, and would nuzzle you with his nose and not let anything bad come near you. Your pet cat would play with you and then eat you. A dog can love. Cats tolerate. Look, I'm not a cat hater. If I found a cat that was in trouble, I would be kind to it," she said, running a hand distractedly through her hair, not noticing the way he followed it with his eyes. He had succeeded in frazzling her, as he had intended to do, but it was proving a hollow victory.

"And do you think he would appreciate your _kindness_?" he sneered, spitting out the word 'kindness' as if it were an obscenity.

"Probably not," she said shortly, rising, "But it would be more than he deserves."

She was tired and he was being petulant, so she chose that moment to head back to the kitchen, effectively ending the conversation. Marian had already turned away and missed Severus' expression. He looked as if he had just been slapped in the face.

The rest of the afternoon passed with him looking pointedly away from her, while she tried to stay out from underfoot, pondering over why he had reacted so badly to their innocuous conversation earlier. As she carefully spooned up their dinner, it finally hit her that he was actually quite upset, and not in a normal bad mood. She didn't quite understand what she had done, but realized that she hadn't spent as much time with him as usual that day, and suspected that his response to her had something to do with his insecurities. Marian sighed and decided to make amends.

When she approached him, he was feigning sleep, but she was undeterred and placed his tray on the bedside table before lifting her hand to lightly stroke his good shoulder.

His dark, glittering eyes opened and snapped to hers, taking her breath away for a moment. _Spy_, she reminded herself ruefully. "Yes?" he asked coolly, secretly a bit pleased that he had managed to throw her off-balance.

"Severus," she murmured, continuing to stroke his shoulder and upper arm after a brief pause, "If I said or did anything to make you angry, I'm sorry. I wouldn't intentionally hurt you for anything in the world. I'm just a little off my game today. I didn't sleep well….But I've made dinner. Would you please try to eat?"

Severus tried to stay angry, but he realized from her words that she truly didn't understand why he was so irritated, which took away a little of his fire, leaving embarrassment in its wake. He hated feeling wrong-footed, and would have liked to punish her by refusing the meal, but it had been quite some time since he had been able to eat at all and the dinner smelled divine—not that he would tell _her_ that, of course.

He looked at Marian with a mutinous expression that she found rather adorable, but as she caressed his bare skin tenderly with her fingertips (she had grown addicted to the feel of him), the fight seemed to ooze out of him and he simply nodded in response, his eyes growing hooded and gleaming softly at her from under long dark lashes. Severus was far from immune to her, and could not remain unresponsive to her affectionate touches; although a small part of him felt slightly horrified at himself for the way he gloried in her undivided attention.

She fed him slowly and carefully, with a perfectly balanced Korean soupspoon. She had discovered long ago in her travels that those were the best. Marian feared that it was too soon for solids, and that the cornbread would be out of the question, but she ventured to give him a small bite and he had no difficulties with it, much to her pleasure. Mentally, she was cataloguing the things he seemed to prefer and the things he appeared less enthusiastic about. He ate everything cautiously and without complaint, although she could tell by the variations in his expressions that he preferred the potatoes, okra and green beans to the beef and other vegetables. Marian desperately wanted to make him happy, and had begun to scheme on expanding his diet. Soon, Ensure Plus would be a thing of the past.

Severus appeared to enjoy the cornbread in particular. It was a dish that he had never tasted before, having been raised on standard British fare. He had rarely dined away from Hogwarts; and the repertoire of the House Elves, while extensive, was not unlimited. The change was nice, he decided tentatively, and even the fact that he was been spoon-fed like an infant failed to bother him as it should, although he couldn't stop himself from voicing his objection—once he was nearly finished. It was more to seek her reassurance than to air his complaints, however.

"This is intolerable. You should not be hand-feeding me," he muttered in between bites.

"Why? Does it make you feel weak? Helpless?" she asked, pausing to dab at his mouth.

His shoulders tensed and he eyed her a bit reproachfully, as though she had said something indecent, verbally casting off the mantle that had cloaked his vulnerability, exposing him. "Indeed," he answered quietly.

Marian took in his slightly hunched posture and the humiliation in his eyes at a glance, secretly shocked that the formerly impenetrable spy was showing so much emotion. She correctly interpreted his fragility and realized, for the first time, that she might have the power to do what no one else had been able to do-_break him_. She shuddered at the thought, and knew that she would have to be very careful with him while he was in this state, or she might just do it inadvertently.

"_Darling_," she murmured, unthinkingly uttering the endearment in a rush of affection and protectiveness, "What you see as weakness is actually power."

He scoffed at her, but it came out more as a sob. Marian put the bowl to the side and grasped his cold hand earnestly between her two warm ones. She said impishly, "It isn't the poor and insignificant, but the most powerful men in history—the sultans and emperors—that have women to wait on them, feed them by hand…bathe them. Even though you lie injured and feel helpless, you're still far more powerful than you think. You enjoy the privilege of kings, but in many ways, your power exceeds theirs. I'm not with you because I'm forced to, or because you're paying me, but because I care for you. This is what kings desire, but almost never achieve.

"And so instead of getting depressed about your current lack of mobility and comparing yourself to a child (which is ludicrous, since there is nothing childish about you. You're a man, and a very fine one.), you may think of me as a slave girl in your harem, if it helps," she finished with a grin.

Severus had quickly regained his equilibrium and lifted an eyebrow at her in response. "My _slave girl_?" he asked suggestively, in melting tones that washed over her like the richest red wine.

She blushed and laughed. "Yes," she murmured, adding coyly, "But you're such a gentleman that you would _never_ ask me to do anything inappropriate."

As she turned to replace the crockery to the kitchen, she heard him reply very quietly, but loudly enough for her to make out every word of his wry rejoinder, "Don't be so sure about that."

Later that evening, Marian was just finishing dressing his wounds when she saw that she had a Floo call. "Do you mind if I take it in here?" she inquired, indicating the fireplace in the corner of the bedroom. She needn't have asked. Severus was intense, relentless, clever and almost preternaturally inquisitive, traits which had served him well in spying and research…and in ferreting out rule-breaking students, but had caused more than one person (and not only students) to allude to him as 'nosy' (and not only because of his large nose). His body might be temporarily out of commission, but his mind was as active as it had ever been. He usually operated at a very high level of alertness—perpetually restless, busy, paranoid, constantly scheming and solving problems. These days, when she wasn't reading to him, he found himself bored, for perhaps the first time in his life.

Severus paid very close attention to the floo conversation, as this was the first time such a thing had happened on his watch since he had come here for his convalescence. He could only hear one side of the discussion, but that was a good deal better than nothing. Marian paid little heed to her audience, who currently lay in bed with closed eyes, the picture of innocence.

After she had related the events of the battle to Severus when he had first regained consciousness, he seemed to have had no more questions, exhibiting no interest in what had become of his possessions or what the wheels of justice had set in motion concerning him. She thought it likely that he believed nothing had changed since he had vanished from Azkaban, and that he was as hated as he had ever been.

Because he had been so reticence to discuss current events or his own situation, she had assumed a lack of interest. This had greatly surprised her at first, although she could see why the subject might be painful for him, considering the inhuman way the wizarding world he had helped save had repaid his sacrifice.

Marian had wanted to confide in him about the plans she had discussed with Harry, but didn't yet know whether they would come to fruition, so she refrained, not wanting to give him hope only to snatch it away again.

It did not occur to Marian that Severus was not used to asking for what he wanted, because of his long history of not receiving it. At least if he did not ask, he would not embarrass himself and expose his needs and weaknesses for others to exploit. But even his self-control only went so far. It was one thing to refrain from actively seeking out information himself, and quite another to close his ears when it was being distributed in his presence.

The face in the flames was Tonks', and Marian was very glad to see her unharmed and to listen to her gush about Remus and their new baby. They chatted for a few minutes, but she kept all talk of Severus to herself, although Tonks seemed to know that 'work' wasn't keeping her away from them all as they celebrated victory over Voldemort.

Severus let Marian's replies wash over him, grasping that she was making small-talk over the werewolf and its spawn. As dull as the chat was proving to be, the view certainly wasn't, as he admired the sight of her on her hands and knees, with her back arched and shapely rear on display. Eyeing her through half-closed lids, he hoped that this proved a _very_ long conversation.

After about fifteen minutes had passed, Marian's knees began to ache and she started to consider seriously bringing the conversation to a close, even though it was poor etiquette, as the initiator was supposed to have that privilege. But suddenly Tonks said something that made her forget her discomfort and listen intently.

"Marian, did you read the _Daily Prophet_ today? It seems like the new Ministry's decided to clear Snape of war crimes. I guess you weren't mistaken in him, after all….Apparently, Harry made it his mission to exonerate him in a closed session of the Wizengamot. He's been lobbying for it for weeks, but you know how it is trying to rebuild a government and then getting it to make a controversial ruling….Sirius was pretty annoyed with him for that whole business. Wait until he hears that Harry's trying to get Snape an Order of Merlin," Tonks snickered, only faltering once she realized what she had said.

"Oh, Marian. I'm sorry. I've really put my foot in it," she gushed apologetically.

Marian smiled and said, "It's okay, Tonks. Although I'm not surprised to hear that about Sirius. The fact that he can't resist, even now…it's unbelievable, really."

Severus didn't know what Marian was talking about, but sneered automatically at the mention of Sirius' name.

"I know. We've all told him that he should give it a rest. Even Remus has had to remind him that Snape is dead, so he might as well get over it, especially before you return…Oops," she murmured. Tonks had a habit of making nearly as many verbal slips as she did actual ones.

"Don't worry about it. You know how I feel about him," Marian replied.

"Don't you mean 'felt'?" Tonks asked, with what she obviously thought was great delicacy.

"_Feel_," Marian reiterated firmly.

Severus would have given a great deal to know what she was referring to—surely she couldn't still be talking about Black?

There was a slightly uncomfortable silence, and then Tonks decided that she didn't quite know how to comfort a friend that persisted in loving a man whose death she herself hardly regretted. Taking a deep breath, she tried to make things right, "Look, I know how much he meant to you, and that his acquittal has got to be cold comfort now, but, well, I thought you should know."

"Never mind that, Tonks. Do you still have the paper on you?" Marian asked, beginning to grow genuinely excited over the news about Severus.

"Hold on a sec," her friend replied, and then disappeared from the flames for a minute before a wrinkled late edition was suddenly thrust through the coals, where Tonks' face had recently been. Marian caught it deftly, and Tonks reappeared with a grunt and a few swear words. "There you are, Marian. Have at it. I'm going to get back to the baby. Teddy is a bit colicky and Remus gets so nervous before the full moon…" she trailed off.

Marian smiled at her in genuine pleasure and said, "Good night, Tonks, and I will be there to see your baby soon, as soon as I get this project in hand."

A moment later, she returned to her armchair at Severus' bedside, where he regarded the witch with the newspaper in her hand with barely-concealed anticipation. "So," he drawled, "you don't quite have me _in hand_?"

"Believe me, you'll know when I do," Marian shot back, before she registered that her words might lend themselves to a rather risqué interpretation.

"As you say," he murmured, watching her in the exultant, predatory way he had that made her blush nervously even across the room—even when he was barely able to lift a finger under his own power.

Embarrassed at herself for the way her body betrayed her and how she always gave him the upper hand, Marian blurted out unthinkingly in her haughtiest tone, "Whatever you think about Americans, _I'm_ not that brazen."

But to her consternation, Severus didn't look fooled. She had neglected to cover him after dressing his injuries earlier, and as he half-reclined with his pale, sculpted torso exposed, even his wounds didn't detract from the erotic impression he made. His black eyes glittered at her appreciatively and he purred, or rasped, rather, "I don't know….I remember you climbed into my bed in quite a hurry."

"Oh, well if that's been bothering you so much, you don't need to worry about it happening again!" she fired back, with cheeks aflame, once again remembering their tangled limbs in vivid detail.

Indignant that she persisted in misinterpreting his banter, he raised his voice as well. "Nothing did happen!" he yelled suddenly and irrelevantly, not seeming to realize that he'd just counteracted his own barb.

They stared at each other for a moment, a bit startled, before Marian stepped forward to switch on the bedside lamp with a shaking hand. The couple blinked in the sudden brightness, and whatever spell had come over them a moment before passed. Marian didn't know why he had reacted the way he had, but was pretty sure that sexual frustration was responsible for her own behavior. But she vowed once again to put her desires aside. He didn't need her like that…would _never_ need her like that.

"Severus," she murmured, "I was talking to Tonks in the Floo."

"I gathered as much," he muttered, much subdued. He still seemed a little troubled by his irrational outburst of a few moments before, but tilted his head to concentrate on her words. She answered his unspoken question by saying, "I didn't tell her about you. But she sent news. I've only bothered to collect a couple of _Daily Prophets_. I figured that someone would Floo me if something truly interesting happened, and I suppose I was right. You have been acquitted by the Wizengamot of all war crimes."

Many expressions passed over his face in that moment. Everything from skepticism to relief to apprehension to disdain.

Marian held up the paper to him so that he could see the pictures. His story had made the very bottom of the front page. It had captured a small paragraph that was continued on page six and there were two pictures. One was of him during his teaching days, looking cold and unapproachable in his school robes. The other was of a small memorial, dwarfed by the vast white tomb of Albus Dumbledore, which was visible in the background thanks to the angle of the shot.

"May I?" she asked nervously, gesturing at the paper.

He gave a curt nod and stared off into the distance.

Marian cleared her throat softly and began, "_To the surprise of all and the dismay_ (Marian momentarily faltered) _of many, the infamous Severus Snape, long regarded as Voldemort's right-hand man, has been posthumously acquitted of all charges. Harry Potter, hero of the wizarding world, headed up the former dark wizard's_ ("Very objective," Marian sneered.) _defense in a closed session of the Wizengamot yesterday afternoon. This reporter was denied access to the proceedings, but was informed that the evidence was incontrovertible that Severus Snape had changed sides in the middle of the first wizarding war, and had remained Albus Dumbledore's loyal agent ever since_.

_"No doubt, many will find this news surprising, as well as the manner of his death, which took place at Voldemort's command. It is uncertain whether he discovered the treachery of his spy, or if he had another reason for ordering his serpent to attack him."_

Severus snorted in derision and disbelief.

_"Severus Snape, long-time Professor of Potions at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and Head of Slytherin House at that same school, leaves a controversial legacy behind. Many remember him as a competent, if unfair and unpleasant_ (Marian scoffed) _instructor, but he shocked the wizarding world last May when he murdered_ ("It wasn't murder! The _Daily Prophet_—inaccurate as ever!" she exclaimed hotly, flushing with indignation on his behalf. He smiled secretly when she came to his defense, almost forgiving the writer of the article for providing the opportunity.) _his longtime patron, Hogwarts' celebrated headmaster and Head of the Order of the Phoenix, Albus Dumbledore, and usurped his position as headmaster. It has since been revealed that he acted on Dumbledore's orders, as the elderly wizard was suffering from a curse injury that would have killed him horribly in a matter of months._

_"Many have expressed concern that Snape should not receive a blanket pardon, but should instead be charged with each crime separately. This list of allegations would be extensive, including treason, murder, terrorism, and all manner of conspiracy charges. Harry Potter is quoted as saying, 'Severus Snape was Dumbledore's man. He followed his orders and everything he did directly contributed to the war effort. We could not have won without him. And so there is no point in splitting hairs. He was a double agent and should not be judged as a criminal'_ ("Well said, Harry," Marian said fervently.).

_"There might have been a greater public outcry concerning this surprising judgment, because many people have children that went to Hogwarts under Snape's administration and suffered under the Carrows' reign of terror, but the manner of his death has caused many to give him the benefit of the doubt. After being violently attacked by Voldemort's familiar, the serpent Nagini, he nearly bled to death before being anonymously deposited at St. Mungo's for treatment. Before his injuries had been tended, a Ministry official gave the order for him to be delivered to Azkaban. An investigation is still pending on this matter. That night he was forcibly removed from Azkaban via portkey, presumably by vengeful Death Eaters that had escaped the final battle, and no one has seen him since. It is likely that he met his death at their hands, after undergoing severe torture. His body has not yet been found. Aurors are rounding up the remaining Death Eaters, but have uncovered no leads as to his fate or whereabouts. A memorial was erected in his honor on Hogwarts property at the expense of a private individual, who wishes to remain anonymous."_

"Well," Marian said slowly, "They were in an awful hurry to declare you dead. In America it takes two years to do that legally."

"It takes two years here as well, but I suppose it sounds more dramatic to say I am _'presumably tortured to death'_ rather than simply _'missing'_," he groused.

"Cheer up. It could have been worse. They could have said _'at large'_," she replied with a grin.

"Oh yes, I remember when there were all the write-ups on that fool, Black," he responded, with a malicious curl of his lip, "At the time, had I had known he was innocent, I could have enjoyed those articles. Instead they upset me, as I thought he was simply eluding justice yet again."

"Well…what did you think?" she asked, trying to contain her agitation.

He seemed to wilt, sinking back farther into his mound of pillows. "I thought the article…more than fair," he murmured, the last three words coming out in barely a whisper. After a moment, he added in his normal sarcastic tones, "Surely it wasn't Rita Skeeter."

"What makes you say that?" Marian inquired with a smirk.

"Had it been her, the headline would have read something like_ 'Notorious Death Eater Escapes Justice Again: Is the New Minister a Death Eater Sympathizer? Sources Say Yes'_," he said acidly.

Marian choked with laughter. "You're right. That _is_ probably the angle she would have taken," she acknowledged.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, before Severus addressed the real issue. "You put Potter up to this, didn't you?" he accused in neutral tones.

"Yes," she answered readily, "Of course I did. The boy's heart is in the right place, and he's tremendously grateful to you, but he's not a strategist. However, at the moment, he is the only other person that knows you're still alive. I confided in him, in order to acquire his help. I couldn't be there to make your trial happen, and I don't have his clout."

"I would imagine that no one alive has his 'clout'," Severus remarked tiredly, before realizing that he should be feeling grateful, and he_ was_, but at the moment he just felt numb and overwhelmed. Also, he felt that he owed Marian so much already. This would be another mark in her column. He hated being in anyone's debt. His lifetime of servitude under Dumbledore was proof positive. The old man had helped him to betray the Dark Lord, and had held it over his head for the rest of his life. _But it's different with Marian_, a part of him whispered, the part that was growing stronger all the time. Because truly, he was secretly touched that she took such care of him, and he supposed that he trusted her.

"But never mind who got the ball rolling; the point is that you won't have to live in hiding. You can do whatever you want to do now. You're truly free," she said earnestly.

"Yes…free," he replied wanly, and his eyes fluttered closed as he feigned sleep.


	32. Chapter 32

Chapter 32: Fresh Air

The next day passed uneventfully, and the one after. Marian spent the majority of her time with him, which pleased them both. She had been keeping his wounds covered with pads and a sort of makeshift hospital gown, more for the sense of normalcy and to preserve his dignity than because the wrappings added any efficacy to the protective spells. Twice a day she changed his dressings, and had been doing this for nearly three weeks, while he would close his eyes or look off in another direction. Occasionally, he would engage her in conversation about something unrelated to the matter at hand.

After he had initially heard the extent of his injuries, he seemed to have dismissed them from his mind. At any rate, he never questioned her about the punctures—never asked if they looked better or worse. He didn't bring up what would happen after he healed, but seemed not to care, or at least to be completely detached from the subject of his well-being.

But out of the blue one morning, as she moved to pull his gown back to tend his wounds, he reached out and stopped her hand. "Show me," he demanded quietly, his voice still noticeably hoarse.

Marian glanced at him apprehensively, but immediately conjured a mirror and levitated it so that he could view his neck and chest. She watched him carefully as she slowly pulled back the bandages, and noticed the slight widening of his eyes as he took in the devastation, before his face closed off, the old familiar double-agent mask materializing seamlessly to cover the concern and horror that had been evident only a half-second before.

When Severus saw his mutilated flesh reflected garishly in the glass, he mentally shuddered at how absolutely hideous he was. He looked like the corpse of a zebra that had been half-devoured by lions. How could Marian stand to look at him? To touch him? He had been ugly before, but now he was a monstrosity. He felt that he had taken one step forward and two steps backward when it came to his dream of having her for his own. Even though he had been pardoned of his crimes and had the possibility of venturing out into society, there were still enough hurdles to make his suit hopeless. He would always be hated, and would bring reprobation down on those he loved. And now that he was so terrifyingly hideous, she would never tie herself to him. How could a woman grow excited by such a ruined, damaged creature?

The end of the war should have marked the end of her inexplicable interest in his welfare, and his injuries were allowing him to drag the time out a little longer. But once she had adequately healed him, he would be forced to move on, to roam the earth alone. Even if she were willing to let him stay, he would not accept her pity—_could_ not accept it. He had been depressed since the floo call the other night, seeing it as the first sign of the outside world intruding on his ephemeral happiness with her. And now that he had seen the wreck of his body, he had closed off completely.

Marian misunderstood his silence. She thought that he was worried about the state of his wounds, and never imagined that he was agonizing over how they had destroyed whatever aesthetic appeal he might have held for her. His blank expression made her nervous, and she started to ramble about how she knew that he was healing slower than she had anticipated, and how a professional healer could have done a much better job. He didn't hear her, and eventually she trailed off.

"Severus," she said suddenly.

His empty dark eyes met hers for a moment and she found that she didn't know what to say. She touched his hand, and he didn't even twitch in answer. Severus was barely responsive all day. She read aloud for a while, but soon desisted, realizing that he wasn't paying any attention to the words. He refused meals, and displayed such apathy that she was deeply troubled.

Finally, she had had enough. He had been visibly declining for the past several hours. Obviously, something was badly wrong and he didn't feel able to talk to her about it. Approaching him, she called out, "Severus!"

He slowly blinked at her. His eyes were no longer empty, but had a resigned look in them. He seemed to be waiting for some sort of sign from her.

"I was just thinking," she said, a bit nervously, "Now that you've been pardoned, you have the option of getting treatment at an actual wizarding hospital. I'm sure that a real healer could mend your injuries at a much faster rate than I've been able to. American hospitals are actually quite good, and they're not allowed to give out your personal information. You would have privacy there. I couldn't send you before, because they would have taken one look at your Dark Mark and extradited you immediately, but now we have options...If you don't trust them, then I suppose I could return you to St. Mungo's, although I'm loath to do that, after the unconscionable way they treated you….So what do you think? Would you like to stay here or try out one of the hospitals?"

Her words proved the sign he had been waiting for. He had known that even _her_ sense of duty had limits, and he had been demanding her undivided attention for weeks. He could not blame her for wanting to get on with her life and relinquish him to the healthcare professionals. And so he decided to give her the easy way out, and tried not to feel hurt, although he couldn't control the sense of loss and devastation he felt as he contemplated being deposited in the lobby of a hospital and abandoned by the one person that he wanted to be with every day for the rest of his life. But Severus had learned long ago that the more pain he felt, the greater was the necessity for keeping it a secret.

He scrutinized Marian carefully for several moments without blinking, before he answered coolly, "That's an excellent idea. Perhaps you could transport me tonight?"

Marian felt stung by his words. She had made the offer because she genuinely wanted what was best for him, and because she wanted him to feel that he had options, and that he wasn't playing James Caan to her Kathy Bates; but, in her heart of hearts, she had expected him to brush her offer aside and instead let her know what was bothering him. Marian had thought that he liked the house and was enjoying the time they spent together. She had believed she was meeting his needs. But she had just heard from his own mouth that this was not so, and all her fantasies about him being content to stay with her always were rent in a moment.

She faltered for a half second before responding, in a falsely bright voice, "Alright. Just give me a few minutes to pack and ask Ginny Weasley to watch Ms. Bear."

He nodded, before catching the implication of her words. "That's a rather drastic measure. There's no need to find a sitter for your animal. You'll be back with it tonight," he said, fishing for more information. He felt that he had missed something, and had a sudden profound hope that she meant what he thought she meant.

She looked at him as though he were mentally unbalanced. "Nice try, Severus. But I'll be accompanying you, of course. If you think that I would leave your side for a single minute while you're hurt and at the mercy of others, then you don't know me at all. If you wish to be rid of me, you'll have to wait until you're one hundred percent again before throwing me over," Marian said matter-of-factly.

Severus couldn't help the surge of joy he felt at her words, but he wanted to make sure of her, and to find out whether her speech indicated a merely token resistance or true, unshakeable devotion. "Your loyalty is to be commended, but I will be quite alright at a hospital. I no longer need someone to sit death watch, and it is completely unnecessary for you to continue to put your life on hold while you keep me company," he replied flatly, his face set in a stubborn cast.

Marian laughed self-deprecatingly and said, as though to herself, "You say I'm 'putting my life on hold'. Severus, you_ are_ my life."

Instantly, she flushed crimson and shot a glance at him through her lashes. She felt the need for some immediate damage control, and amended hastily, "What I _meant_ to say is that a hospital is no place for you to go alone. Healers and orderlies neglect patients that don't have advocates with them. Believe me, I know….I may not be able to meet your needs here, but I can still go there and protect you."

With those words, she walked decisively over to the fireplace and picked up a handful of floo power, keeping her back to Severus, careful not to look at him. The room was filled with a pregnant silence for a few moments, and he watched her slim profile, tense as a bowstring. His indifferent, sphinxlike mask melted away, to be replaced with a look of surprised relief. As she drew her alabaster arm back in preparation to cast the powder into the fire, he called softly, "Marian, stop."

She turned slowly, and seemed unwilling to meet his gaze, but when she did, she felt a flutter in her heart. Severus no longer seemed unreachable and unresponsive. His eyes glittered with a mixture of emotions, and she realized at once that something in him had changed.

"Yes?" she replied quietly, not knowing what to expect after her blurted admission.

"I…I no longer wish to go to the hospital," he said, cheeks slightly pinking.

Marian cocked her head to the side. "What changed your mind?" she asked curiously.

"Well, if you're hell-bent on overseeing my care, you might as well do it here," he said gruffly, adding a moment later, "St. Mungo's is out of the question, and if any American is going to receive credit—or blame—for saving my life, then it's going to be you."

She delicately poured the silvery powder back into the urn and absently wiped the residue on the blue-green skirt of her sundress. "Oh, Severus," she murmured, approaching her patient with smooth, light steps. His words gave her the first clue she had had as to his recent melancholy and subsequent demand to be brought to a hospital. It was obvious that he hadn't thought she would stay with him there, which surprised her. How could he think she would abandon him, after everything she had done to rescue him? But she supposed that he had a long history of being betrayed. An extremely loyal person himself, no one had ever repaid his devotion. And he had changed his tune quickly enough once he had found out that she intended to move into the hospital with him. His rejection of her had been a preemptive strike. _He had thought she wanted to be rid of him_. A rush of protective warmth came over her, and she had to forcibly bite her tongue to stop herself from declaring her love then and there.

When she reached his side, she trembled with emotion as she gazed at the rare and wonderful man before her. After a long moment's hesitation, she tried to conceal her agitation by saying ironically, "Well, that_ is_ rather good of you. I would be extremely put out if any of those pushy Americans jumped in at the last minute to steal the credit."

The corner of his mouth twitched in amusement, but when he responded, his words were as serious as they had ever been, "After all, it's only fair….You brought me back from the brink. What healer could do more for me than you have done?"

Her heart constricted with happiness when he voiced his gratitude. She reached forward and began combing her fingers through his disheveled black hair, and he closed his eyes at the sudden surge of pleasure he felt at the contact. Marian loved the fact that, even though he was such a detached and self-contained person, he was so responsive to her touch. Seeing how much he enjoyed something as simple as her sliding her fingers though his hair made her pulse speed up as she considered how much more he would enjoy other things she could do to him. The thought sent an unexpected tidal wave of lust through her body that caused her to pause in her ministrations.

Worried that she was about to remove her hand completely from where she had been gently massaging his scalp with her fingertips, he spoke up again, deviously intending to distract her into continuing. It wouldn't have occurred to Severus Snape simply to say, "Don't stop." He still had a way to go before he would expose his desires to her censure.

And so he remarked sardonically, "If anyone knew the extent of what you have done, you would receive an honorary healer's license."

She smiled. He was being uncharacteristically demonstrative, and Marian reveled in the closeness. Tenderly stroking the back of his head, she replied laughingly, "You're too generous—as usual. After all, if we're assigning credit, you deserve quite a bit yourself for devising that antitoxin….Very nice work. If that hadn't been in your system….Well anyway, it saved your life."

He turned to look at her. His mobility was returning gradually and he could now turn his head about forty-five degrees in either direction, although he found it far easier to look to the right, which didn't tighten his skin. "That was your work as well, if you remember. You provided the means and the…incentive," he answered, although now he spoke in the delightfully languid, liquid way he had when he was tired.

She said nothing, but sat observing him. She loved the way he stretched and preened under her hand like a cat. And most adorable of all, he had no idea he was doing it. After another moment, he said, "You know what really irritates me?"

"What?" she asked, her long slim fingers continuing their rhythmic caresses.

"Do you have any idea how many potions I've made for St. Mungo's over the years?" he pouted.

Marian snickered in response.

Later, as she bent over him to see to his bandages, he said imperiously, "You can sit down on the bed, you know."

"It's alright, Severus," she murmured. "I don't want to jar you or hurt you."

"You won't," he assured her, "And if you did, I would most certainly make you aware it."

She somehow doubted he would. He was very proud that way, not liking to show weakness or betray any sensitivity to pain, even when she knew that he must be hurting, sometimes so much that any other man would be writhing in agony.

But she sat down carefully on the edge of the bed and tended to his wounds, which were improving, even though the progress was very slow. They looked pink and puckered, and had obviously horrified Severus that morning, and so she took the opportunity to murmur aloud, "The scars won't be too significant, considering that the injuries were punctures. Most of the really terrible damage occurred deeper in your body, where we can't see. That's why the wounds are taking so long to heal—that and the fact that I'm a layperson and not a healer."

Even though he said nothing, she could sense his relief. Marian wasn't quite sure how it had happened, but he was remarkably persuasive, and had managed to coax her into lying down so that he could return the head massage, and she had fallen asleep, as though under a spell. The night was warm, and she awoke to find herself lying on top of the covers, snuggled up parallel to his legs, with his large hand protectively cradling the back of her head as he slept. She glanced up at him, and saw that he seemed to be experiencing wholesome, peaceful sleep. For once, he lacked the strained, haggard look of someone in chronic pain. And so she did what any sensible woman would do—cuddled closer and drifted back into oblivion.

The next morning, Marian woke, feeling deliciously warm, but somewhat cramped and sore. With embarrassment, she discovered that she was curled in a ball beside him, with her head at about his thigh level. At some point in the night, he had pulled his covers over her, and she felt inexplicably warmed by the gesture. "How are you feeling?" she asked, suddenly sitting up, intensely worried that her proximity had caused him some pain.

He seemed to realize her concern and rolled his eyes in fond exasperation. "I feel…better today. In fact, I think I'd like to sit up for a while," he answered, after tilting his head in thought for a moment.

Surprised, she agreed at once, before asking, "Would you like to sit outside?"

Severus could hardly believe his good fortune, but worried for a moment that she intended to place him in uncomfortable Muggle lawn furniture. But his fears proved to be groundless, as, the moment he nodded his assent, Marian levitated her armchair through the French doors and out onto the balcony. The cool, misty, morning smell of the mountains rushed in through the open doors, intoxicating him.

In under half an hour, he found himself propped comfortably in Marian's recliner, relatively clean, shaven, arrayed in new bandages and shielded from the dew with a lovely down coverlet. It had taken little time since his first solid meal for him to demand to feed himself. And so today he served himself awkwardly with his left hand, but Marian would not have denied him for the world. She made it her practice to give him anything he asked, and only to countermand him when the issue was a critical one related to his health, although she had never actually acted against his will. Her opinion had differed from his several times, but he was very sensible, and had a strong desire to please her, so he would see reason and capitulate, even in his most petulant moods.

Severus enjoyed the view from the balcony. It was really breath-taking, now that he could see it with no barriers in the way. Three deer paced sedately on the opposite hillside, and the pale haze lingered in the valley, like a white, foamy river just at his feet. He drank in the beauty of the sparkling, dew-sprinkled greenery and the curious pale vapors that rose up about him like the steam from potions in his lab. All the while, he marveled at the recent and astonishing improvement in his fortunes. Who would have guessed a month ago that he would have no more masters and be living with the woman he loved, being cared for by her? And to make matters even finer, he had been acquitted, so he was no longer the most hated man in the wizarding world. His luck had certainly changed for the better.

Marian slipped silently outdoors and joined him, placing a tray across his lap that contained coffee, just the way he liked it, with a liberal amount of cream and sugar. When he used to take it at Hogwarts, he had always requested it black and bitter, but Marian had an uncanny knack for knowing exactly what he _really_ wanted. The delicacies and hearty fare she chose for him were better than anything he had ever given himself. The tray also contained a buttered waffle with real maple syrup, a blueberry yogurt and two rashers of bacon. She didn't expect him to eat it all, but every little bit helped, and she wanted to encourage him to take in as many calories as possible until he reached his normal weight again, although even that was light. He had always been tall and sinewy.

He noticed with approval that Marian had donned a warm bathrobe—in Slytherin green, no less. She sat down beside him in a lawn chair with a stool, placing her steaming mug on his tray, which was doing double duty as her coffee table. His sensitive nostrils detected the scent of hot chocolate and marshmallows in her mug, rather than coffee. After nestling into her chair and unrolling the morning paper, she suddenly gave an exclamation.

He glanced over at her in alarm. She appeared to be reading an article avidly, and after a few silent moments had ticked by, Severus couldn't take the suspense anymore. "For Merlin's sake, woman, what is it?" he asked in agitation.

"It's the Malfoys," she answered gravely, "Their trials are set to begin tomorrow."

"I…see," he answered pensively.

She turned and looked at him, with an intent expression in her eyes, green next to her robe. "Severus, what is your relationship with the Malfoys?" she asked.

Somewhat surprised by the question, he answered cautiously, "I have always had a rather…symbiotic relationship with them."

He lifted his coffee to his lips, and when he placed the cup back on the tray, she tugged his blanket upwards and tucked it back in around his neck, making sure that no part of his bare chest was exposed to the elements. He gave her a longsuffering glance, which made her smile. She waited patiently for him to go on, and he soon did. "Lucius was a prefect when I was a young student at Hogwarts. He was everything that I wasn't but desperately wanted to be: pureblooded with a noble pedigree, rich, cultured, influential, handsome, and charismatic. I respected him a great deal, and he was always kind to me. He was one of the first to value my academic talents and he protected me on occasion. I knew from the beginning that he was a ruthless social climber, and that he didn't appreciate me for anything more than my usefulness, but in that he was hardly unique, and I didn't resent him for it. Actually, it was he who recruited me to the Death Eaters.

"Over the years, he and I have maintained cordial relations. He speaks well of me to the school governors; I protect and shamelessly favor his son at Hogwarts."

"Are you Draco's godfather?" she asked.

Severus' black eyes snapped to hers and he murmured, "No. Wherever did you hear such a thing? Lucius Malfoy and I may have been on good terms, but he never saw me as his equal. If he were given a choice of eradicating all Muggle-borns and half-bloods from the face of the earth, or sparing them all because of the few that have proven useful to him-have no doubt that he would kill every last one of us."

"What a terrible man!" Marian exclaimed.

"He is…although he's not really a murderer. He _has_ killed, but not in cold blood. He has inherited an evil philosophy, but no bloodlust like that of his sister-in-law, Bellatrix. His social ideals, when taken to their logical conclusion, end in genocide, but he is a rather flighty man that tends to gloss over the details. He lacks the stomach to implement any of his grandiose schemes.

"But the main thing that one must absolutely know about how Lucius Malfoy ticks is that his family comes before all other considerations….You saw how he abandoned ship at the final battle, in order to search for his son," Severus finished.

"Do you think he should go to Azkaban?" she asked pointblank.

He pondered the question for a moment, before replying, "Of course. He practically _breathes_ corruption. And he was a Death Eater in the inner circle. He has broken many laws, although the Dark Lord primarily used him for his money and influence. Lucius' role was to grease palms, and he was rarely forced to get his own hands dirty. That incident in the Department of Mysteries was his first real assignment, which he botched, because he would rather talk than act….But even though he deserves it, I would rather he _didn't_ receive a prison sentence. I owe him a great deal, especially now. Besides you, he is the closest thing I have to a friend. Also, if he received life-imprisonment, it would kill Narcissa. She has many admirable qualities, even if she is rather vain and shallow. She only became a Death Eater to support her peacock of a husband."

"If he managed to avoid prison, do you think he would be a danger to society? Could he ever be trusted?" Marian asked earnestly.

To her amusement, Severus nonchalantly took a sip of her cocoa before answering briskly, "He will never be trustworthy. He's weak and self-aggrandizing. But without someone powerful lashing him forward with a whip, he will only be capable of petty mischiefs. And I think his wife and son might even become productive citizens—if a bit snobbish and bigoted."

She turned to look at him as she busied herself unwinding her hair. It had been kept up in a ropy crown atop her head for sleeping. "The reason I ask," she murmured, "is that I have an idea that might get them acquitted. I feel sorry for Draco and Narcissa, and I would like to do them all a good turn if I could, if I could be fairly sure that they wouldn't cause trouble. You would have died in the Shrieking Shack if not for Lucius' curiosity and quick thinking, and again in Azkaban if he hadn't told me where I might find you."

He eyed her sternly, or as sternly as he was able while she persisted in shaking out her shining, wavy tresses like a shimmering banner in the morning light. "Marian, I forbid you to put yourself at risk for _Lucius Malfoy_—no matter what he's done for me. I will repay my own debts. If you're even _contemplating_ anything like my rescue from Azkaban…"

"No, nothing like that. Do you remember when I asked if you would like to be rid of the Dark Mark? Well, I found a way to remove it, and it was very tricky work. First I had to figure out how it was created, and I spent over a month poring over the theory of protean charms…but that's not important right now. The point is, I could visit them before their trial and remove their Dark Marks. Then they could reveal their arms to the Wizengamot and say that their Marks had disappeared after the Dark Lord was killed, because they had never been truly loyal to him. This would probably be enough to tip the ruling in their favor, because their judges know perfectly well that all of the other Death Eaters have retained their marks….The only thing that worries me is that this might become the standard of proof, and that the accused might not be examined on the merits of their case, but on whether or not they still had the Dark Mark."

"I don't think you have much to worry about on that score," Severus replied sardonically, "If anyone possesses the Dark Mark, then they had to have proven themselves to the Dark Lord and been heavily involved in his movement. Comparatively few were granted the 'honor', and certainly no snatchers or petty criminals. Generally, it is a safe bet that if one wears the Mark that he is guilty. Even Grayback lacked one….But Marian, why are you only now mentioning this to me? Why haven't you removed _my_ Mark?"

She sighed and responded, "My research has been intended for you all along. But according to my calculations, it causes a significant drain of magic and energy, and I would never dream of subjecting an injured man to such a rigorous trial. When you are better, we'll make it happen….But there is one _other_ reason I would like to help the Malfoys," she added, with downcast eyes.

"Marian, if you tell me it's because Lucius is so bloody handsome that you can't help yourself, I'm going to lose my breakfast," Severus said sourly.

She laughed in amused surprise. "Be serious, Severus. I was _going_ to say that I wanted to help them so that I could have test subjects for the spell, before I used it on you, in case anything went wrong—not that I expect it to, of course….Besides, I've always found blonds a little…insipid," she said, before roguishly lifting his hand to place an affectionate kiss on the back of it.

"Whatever you say, my dear," he replied drily, but his cheeks belied his ironic tone. They were so pale in the morning light that the twin spots of pink showed visibly, leaving Marian utterly charmed. They sat quietly for a few moments; the only sounds the occasional clink of silverware on china, the chirping of birds, and the rustling of leaves in the gentle breeze. Severus thought he could hear the sound of running water in the distance.

After a moment, he looked up at her with a wistful expression and murmured extraneously, "It is very lovely here."

"I'm glad you find it so," Marian said meaningfully, looking out over the trees—birch, oak, beech and fir, with a few mountain laurels-and the rock walls, where several crevices and cave entrances could be spied from where they sat.

She smiled lazily and told him, "When you are better, we can sit on the front porch. There is a view of the mountains from there—the beautiful, green, secret and shrouded mountains of Appalachia….My room faces south, and a creek flows past. It has beautiful rapids—especially in the winter. I've kayaked it a few times."

"In a Muggle boat?" he asked curiously.

"Yes," she smiled, "A playboat—for whitewater. It's an exciting, invigorating sport, and there are beautiful views the whole way down the run. There's nothing better than a day of surfing and riding wave-trains on the river, followed by summer ale and campfires….We could go paddling sometime, if you like."

He felt a keen longing at her words, which surprised him. He had never been the outdoor sort, so it hardly made sense. But he found himself intoxicated by her passion and by the lovely picture she had painted…and not a little by her assumption that they would continue to spend time together after he was well.

Not one to 'wear his emotions on his sleeve', he merely nodded and made a noncommittal sound, before abruptly saying, "I don't like the idea of you giving the Malfoys this power over you. If they told any other Death Eaters about your spell, they would stop at nothing to seek you out. And if they're forced to take Veritaserum at their trial and are asked about how the Mark vanished, you are bound to be dragged before the authorities for interrogation….Also, whenever someone has a secret knowledge that you have broken the law, they have something on you that they can use to manipulate you. I don't want you _ever_ to be at anyone's mercy."

Having his concern and clever advice exerted for her benefit left Marian feeling warm and cherished. "Don't worry. I'm going to Obliviate them. That way, they can honestly tell the Wizengamot that they have no idea how they lost their Dark Marks. But I suppose I should be going soon. It's already teatime over in Britain," she replied, reluctantly rising.

He nodded and said, "When you go, you should wear a portkey."

"I will." she replied with a smile, and added mildly, "Would you like to stay outside while I dress, or do you want to go back to bed?"

"I think I'll stay here for a while," he returned, and a few moments later, the mild sunshine and the rhythmic rippling of the greenery had lulled the convalescing spy into a dreamy languor. Moments or hours might have passed before Severus awoke to Marian's touch. These forests had existed since time immemorial, and time had no real jurisdiction here. It was a place of resting and healing, of secrets and growing things, and he was suddenly sharply reminded of C.S. Lewis' 'Wood between the Worlds'. He understood exactly what the writer had meant by an 'in-between place'. In this cottage in the forest, he was totally safe and free of all responsibilities—for the first time in his life.

"Is it time already?" he asked sleepily.

Her heart leapt at his unguarded, peaceful expression. The more days he had like this, where he was able to relax with no stress, the closer he would finally come to being healed—mind and body, and perhaps soul, if she was lucky.

Marian tied a green hair ribbon around his left wrist, while he looked on in bemusement. "This is a portkey," she explained as she worked, "Since you might not be able to activate it if something happened to you, I have it on a timer. It will deposit you at the Asheville Magical Hospital in exactly eight hours, if something happens to me and I am detained, as unlikely as that is. I have placed a similar portkey on Ms. Bear; only hers will take her to the Burrow. And before you ask, I'm wearing one as well—one like the pendant I gave you, which is keyed to my will. And if anything seems even slightly off, I won't hesitate to use it, believe me."

"I think I would like to stay outside while you're gone," Severus ventured, with an obstinate cast to his features. He obviously expected her to refuse, and was mentally preparing to argue his case, but he needn't have worried. She knew what he needed, and saw that sunlight and fresh air could only benefit him.

"Alright," Marian replied, "The balcony is magically protected from the elements, so you should be fine. Once I give you your potions, I'll be off."

She administered them, and he dutifully drank, because they were more efficacious this way than when spelled directly into the body, although the latter might prove more pleasant for the sufferer, depending on the flavors of the particular potions.

As she turned to leave, he caught her hand. Startled, her light eyes met his, which were filled with dark intensity. "If the trial is tomorrow, then the house is being watched. I guarantee that the floo is being monitored by Aurors. But there is one entrance that they won't know about. It has a different floo address, even though it is located in the manor like all the others….Don't look so surprised. This is hardly the most crooked thing Lucius contrived in all his time in government. Anyway, after you toss in the powder, call out 'Malfoy Gallery'. This will get you in undetected."

She squeezed his hand softly in answer, and turned to leave, before she embarrassed them both by fretting and clucking over him. But truthfully, it pained her to leave him. He was so vulnerable—portkey or not. She had not left the house in a month, and he had barely been out of her sight in all that time. She felt very anxious about him, and a bit…bereft.


	33. Chapter 33

Chapter 33: The Dark Mark

Marian followed Severus' instructions and called out 'Malfoy Gallery!' in a clear, ringing voice. Almost at once, she found herself looking out of the fire into a large drawing room. She wondered if it was the same one she had peeked in on her last visit to Malfoy Manor, during that harrowing, yet highly successful, interview with the Dark Lord.

Several minutes passed, and eventually she heard voices. "They can't come back here! What will we do, Lucius?"

"Refuse entrance, of course," the cool, refined voice of a man floated towards her. The door opened, and she found herself face-to-face with three wands and three very guarded faces.

"Oh, it's you!" Narcissa exclaimed in surprise.

"What are _you_ doing here? And who told you about this entrance?" Lucius asked authoritatively. Marian noticed Draco standing behind them. He looked rather lost.

"I came here to fulfill my promise. And Severus told me, of course," she responded practically.

All at once, their attitudes changed. She saw hope and excitement flicker in all three sets of eyes, and noticed Lucius and Narcissa share a glance. She realized then that the two of them had a very close marriage, which surprised her, in spite of what Severus had said. From what she knew of Death Eaters, love and faithfulness ranked fairly low on their list of perceived virtues. But she supposed that there were always exceptions—Severus, for instance.

"Please, come through," Lucius said, and suddenly she found the way unobstructed, and she was able to stand and enter the chamber, rather than merely peep about her, straining to peer over the coals. Marian noticed that her garments were ash-free, and supposed that they must have implemented a robe-cleaning charm. She would have to look into installing something of the sort at her own house.

She saw that the room was large and well-lit and that there were several immense windows, but all were covered with heavy drapes. Elegant French antiques were littered about like worthless trinkets, and Marian noticed several priceless pieces of furniture that obviously went back to the time of Charlemagne. She could have gazed about her for hours, but the Malfoy family currently demanded all her focus.

"Please, won't you sit down?" Lucius murmured, in a studied, rather superior voice, and ushered her towards a graceful mahogany settee, upholstered in a very soft, mint-green fabric. She sat, and the others congregated about her, the married couple on the sofa opposite her, and their teenaged son in a chair over to the side.

They hurried through the customary ritual of serving tea, while the Malfoys nearly choked with impatience as they enacted their social duty. Marian herself was rather put out by the delay, as she knew she was about to be subjected to a drink that she despised, and couldn't stop worrying about Severus and wanting to return to his side.

Once they each had a small porcelain cup filled with the hot brew, and had nibbled mechanically on a biscuit, Lucius spoke up again, "What do you know about this 'kidnapping' of Severus Snape from Azkaban?"

She decided to be honest with him—to a point, and said carefully and pointedly, "I cannot comment on that particular episode, but I _can_ say that he is alive and in my care."

"How is he?" Narcissa asked softly, and Marian looked over at her for the first time. The woman was very beautiful, and the American could imagine how irresistible she must have been, clinging softly to Severus and begging him to swear an Unbreakable Vow. Marian would bet everything she had that Narcissa Malfoy even cried charmingly. She had the magnetism peculiar to the Black family, with her exquisite bone-structure, sinful lips and glorious eyes in a bright ice blue. And the American felt very, very thankful that the blonde was a married woman, and not a rival for Severus' affections; because she had a definite feeling that, if the gorgeous witch were a rival, she wouldn't be one for long, and that Marian would find herself heading home alone, singing 'Jolene, Jolene'.

Shaking herself out of her thoughts, she replied politely, "He is healing—slowly. But he is grateful to your family and worried about your trial. Your son's survival was one of his main concerns when he emerged from his coma. I am also grateful for your intervention. You saved his life, and I have come to repay you for that kindness."

"It was nothing. He has done so much more for us," Lucius muttered, and she sensed that he was actually very moved by her news about the Potions Master, although something artificial lurked alongside his gratitude, like a wolf in a sheep paddock. The blond aristocrat assessed Marian with his keen gray eyes, taking the measure of her and deciding how to get the most out of this encounter. Lucius saw at a glance that she was obviously Severus' lover, and so he thought it prudent to play up his friendship and gratitude to the Potions Master and to see what she had come to offer before changing tacks.

"Perhaps, but in restoring him to me, you gave me a priceless gift. His friends are my friends, and today I've come here with his blessing, in order to help you with your trial," Marian explained, choosing her words carefully. She knew that many immediately discounted her because of her accent, and she figured that she might as well not give them any more ammunition by exhibiting poor diction.

They nodded at her, and she continued, "I have developed a spell that will remove the Dark Mark. I had researched it for Severus, and decided to offer it to you as well. If you could show the Wizengamot unblemished skin where the Mark used to be, and pretend that it had faded on its own after the Dark Lord was defeated, then I think that would heavily influence the court in your favor. The absence of the Mark would speak for itself; you wouldn't even have to offer an explanation.

"Your judges would draw their own conclusion, and it would be that you hadn't been truly faithful to the Dark Lord, because you would be the only former Death Eaters on which it was missing. Well, and Severus, but he would only bolster your claim because he has already been acquitted. It is this Mark that brands you as a Death Eater and sets you apart. People are unable to look past it and you will find it almost impossible to find sympathy anywhere you go as long as you wear it. But I'm sure you know that already….So tell me, is this something you would be interested in?"

While she had been speaking, they had all perked up considerably. Draco had rolled up his sleeve and was gazing distastefully at the hideous black tattoo. She noticed that it had recent scarring around it. Perhaps he had been trying to remove it himself. She felt a stab of pity for the boy. He had had very little choice in the whole matter, and was just a child, after all.

"You have tried this on Severus? It works?" Lucius asked, with barely suppressed excitement thrumming through his expensively dressed, well-proportioned body.

"I haven't tried it on him yet. He is terribly wounded. It has been a month, and his wounds still aren't completely closed. He can't walk, and today was the first day he sat anywhere besides the bed. I have been waiting to use the spell on him because it causes a substantial drain on one's magical energy, and he simply cannot afford that right now. This is not dangerous, and I am almost certain that it will work, but the Dark Mark is inextricably woven into one's own magic, and it is very difficult to remove it. The worst that will happen is that you will all be very weak and exhausted for the next few days, which might even work to your advantage, gaining you sympathy at the trial," she explained candidly.

She could see the shrewd calculations going on behind Lucius' gray eyes, and she was suddenly reminded that she was sitting before three Slytherins, and that she hadn't needed to go into such detail. They were perfectly capable of seeing all the angles for themselves.

"By the way," Marian said, turning to Narcissa once again, "I would like for you to declare Severus' Vow to you fulfilled. He seems to think that it's become inactive and that he has nothing more to worry about, but I'd like to be sure. It troubles me that he could suddenly die if anything bad happened to Draco thirty years from now."

"Of course," she replied, after flicking her eyes over to Lucius for a fraction of a second, as if seeking his approval. Because Bellatrix was dead, Narcissa could dissolve the oath on her own authority. She produced her wand and spoke the incantation in a lovely, soft voice. The wand emitted a golden glow that held for a moment before vanishing. Marian let out a sigh of relief.

"Thank you. Have you all decided? Who would like to be first?" she asked, eager to pick up the pace so that she could return home.

"I will do it," Lucius said, shooting a quelling glance at Narcissa, who looked inclined to argue with him.

"Very well," Marian murmured, "Perhaps you should lie down on the sofa, and bare your arm. Touch no one else."

He complied with a cavalier recklessness that she hadn't expected from someone so mistrustful and cunning. But she supposed that he felt he had nothing to lose. Marian produced her wand, and began channeling her magic. The area around the Dark Mark began to glow with a lurid green light. The others watched in frightened astonishment as Lucius appeared more and more agitated, before he began to thrash about on the couch. Marian didn't know whether she was hurting him or not, but continued on with the spell. It would be dangerous to stop in the middle, while it was purging the dark magic from his system. Suddenly, he gave a great shiver, from head to toe, and seemed suddenly boneless. As he lay back exhausted, Narcissa rushed forward and touched his cheek.

"Are you alright, my darling?" she asked, with such tenderness that Marian and Draco both looked away.

"Yes. I'm fine. Just…tired," he said, struggling to sit up with her help. But his spirits were revived a bit when he glanced down at his forearm and saw that it was as pale and smooth as it had been when he was seventeen.

Narcissa had tears in her eyes and she murmured, "At last! I've wanted it out of our lives for so long. Off you, and our boy….It's too good to be true….Did it hurt much?"

For a moment, Lucius looked slightly disconcerted and he muttered shiftily, "No. It didn't_ hurt_."

There was something about the way he said it that made no one inquire further, and so Narcissa resumed his place, while her husband hovered nearby, although it was obvious that the man needed to get to a bed as soon as possible. After Marian repeated the procedure with Narcissa, Draco nervously took her vacated spot. "Don't worry about anything, Draco," his mother said, placing a tender kiss on his brow. But to Marian's consternation, the boy's parents moved a distance away and paid him no attention.

Her first thought was that they were being singularly unsupportive, until she picked up on something in the young man's face that had been undetectable on the faces of his more guarded parents. The blond writhed about feverishly, but it wasn't until a soft moan escaped his throat that the pieces fell into place. Apparently, not only did the spell not hurt, but it felt good. _Really good._ When the Mark finally vanished, Draco looked like a man just released from the throes of passion. And perhaps that was exactly what had happened—thank Merlin for thick robes-Marian thought with a flush. The striking, angular young man panted softly through parted, petal-pink lips as he lay sprawled sensually across the sofa. With a spark of desire, Marian wondered what it would be like when she administered this remedy to Severus.

Pretending she hadn't noticed his intriguing response to the spell, she asked clinically, "Do you think you can sit up? Do you feel like you're going to be sick?"

"No," he answered after a moment, in barely a whisper.

But then he pulled himself into a sitting position, so she supposed he had only been responding to her second question, which she had only asked to distract him and ease his embarrassment. The elder Malfoys had returned to the sitting area, but they looked very weary, and Marian wanted to leave as soon as possible so that they could take rest. But one more thing needed to be done before she could go.

"May I ask a favor?" she inquired.

"Of course," Narcissa said, gratitude shining in her voice.

"I don't want you to be forced to reveal my…intervention under Veritaserum. If the Ministry finds out that someone is going around vanishing Dark Marks, then its paranoia will go through the roof. Besides, it would neatly destroy your defense. With your permission, I would like to Obliviate the three of you—only the part of my visit where we discuss and implement the spell, of course. I'm quite good at this sort of thing, and promise not to erase more than a few minutes," Marian said, careful to ask politely.

At first Lucius looked as though he would refuse, but then he said grudgingly, "You're right, of course. Yes, it must be done. Will we remember that Severus is alive?"

"Yes," Marian answered unhesitatingly.

"Are you in love with him?" Narcissa cut in abruptly.

A bit startled, Marian met her eye, but found no challenge or judgment in the blonde woman's gaze, only curiosity. "With all my soul," Marian answered with quiet intensity.

A smug smirk touched Narcissa's lips. She sensed that the other woman would be telling her husband 'I told you so' the moment she left. "_But_," Marian added playfully, "You're not going to remember that in a few moments."

Mrs. Malfoy only laughed, and said, "My dear, just because I wanted to hear it from your own lips does not mean that I was uncertain before. You may erase the memory of your confession, but your feelings are so obvious as to need none….Tell me, does Severus know?"

"Like you said, my feelings are obvious," she quipped in response, before making an attempt to steer the conversation away from her attraction for Severus Snape. Lucius Malfoy was looking at her very oddly, meditatively, as though something puzzled him.

Marian returned his stare and raised an eyebrow in question. Lucius smirked at her and said, "I remember the last time you came to this house. Bellatrix cursed your name for _weeks_ afterwards. You managed to hoodwink the Dark Lord…even your words just now prove you _quite_ the Slytherin. Your feelings may be 'obvious' to us, but unless you've told him, I doubt Severus has a clue….But you're not going to tell us whether he does, and _if_ he does, what his feelings are on the subject."

"You're very observant, Mr. Malfoy," Marian answered lightly.

"Please, call me Lucius," the shockingly handsome man responded smoothly, brushing a speck of dust off one of his embroidered cuffs, "I think that Severus has finally met his match in you, and I cannot imagine that my repressed friend _doesn't_ reciprocate your feelings."

Marian definitely didn't plan on discussing the obstacles to her love life with the Malfoys, and decided that the time had come to leave. "That's very kind of you to say….In any case, I need to get back to him. I know that he's worrying about me, thinking that I've been detained by Aurors, and he will only grow more agitated the longer I'm away. Right now, it's important for him to be as stress-free as possible….Are you ready?" Marian said quickly, allowing a bit of urgency to seep into her voice.

Draco spoke up suddenly, surprising everyone. "So I won't remember any of it?" he asked.

"Do you want to?" Marian inquired, meeting his cool gray eyes levelly.

"I suppose not," said the boy ruefully, and briefly hesitated before adding, "Can we visit him? There are many things I would like to say."

"Not just yet…perhaps when he is better. Do you want me to tell him anything for you?" she asked patiently.

Suddenly the aloof, manicured young man lost his composure for a moment, and answered, "Will you thank him for me? And tell him I'm glad that he's alright…and that I'm sorry. Tell him I'm so sorry."

"I will, but I think he already knows," she answered gently, as Draco's parents softly echoed his sentiments, and Narcissa reached out and stroked his shoulder.

Straightening up, and with a glimmer of a smile, the American asked, "Shall we proceed?"

"Very well," Lucius nodded, and then she murmured the spell and their eyes clouded over, as she erased the past few minutes from them all at the same time. Mass memory modification wasn't as difficult as people made it out to be—_if_ you knew how, that was.

Shortly afterwards, Marian said her goodbyes, and as she entered the fireplace, Narcissa called out feelingly, "Take care of him."


	34. Chapter 34

Chapter 34: Comeuppance

She couldn't help but sigh in relief to be in her own house once again. It might lack the extravagance of Malfoy Manor, but it had its own charm, and she found it no less elegant for being more natural.

She immediately deactivated Ms. Bear's portkey, and then headed out to the balcony to see to Severus. His eyes were closed, but he had apparently heard her coming. As she silently approached, he murmured, "What took you so long?"

After she removed and disabled the portkey on his wrist, gently stroking his skin in the process, she sank into the chair beside him and said teasingly, "Well, I think I just gave Draco his first sexual experience."

This had _not_ been what he had expected her to say, and Severus' head snapped up as he asked in consternation, "You _what_?"

She laughed lightly and said, "Come inside and I'll tell you all about it while we eat."

"It doesn't sound like the sort of thing one wants to hear about while eating," he replied snidely, but seemed to realize that there was much more to the story, and allowed her to transport him into the house. After she had carefully lowered him into bed and they had begun to dine on leftover beef stroganoff, he fixed her with his forceful gaze and demanded, "Now, tell me about this…_encounter_ between you and my 'godson'."

She laughed out loud, and told him about her visit to the Malfoys (excepting that last conversation, that is), with him frequently interrupting with questions and comments. "I cannot believe they were so trusting," he mused, "They must really have been broken down by the Dark Lord and the Ministry. I can't imagine Lucius agreeing to anything without asking dozens of questions and making thoroughly certain of you. You could have cast _any_ spell on him and his family! And he let you, without extorting any promises. Not only this, but he allowed you to tamper with his memories. It is unheard of. He must have some reason for trusting you, known only to him…or he is going soft…or he really was that desperate."

She just shrugged her shoulders, feeling a rush of affection for Severus as he reasoned and schemed. He was so wonderfully in character, his clever, suspicious mind searching out all the angles. How had she managed to spend so much of her life away from him? The Potions Master seemed to notice the light in her eyes as she watched him, and his filled with an answering warmth, before he mumbled self-deprecatingly, "After all, he's a Slytherin, Marian."

At those words, she laughed and kissed his hand, before continuing on with her tale. Abruptly, and with studied nonchalance, she added, "Oh, incidentally, Narcissa has declared your Unbreakable Vow to her fulfilled, so if you ever decide to hex Draco or anything like that, there's nothing stopping you."

Instead of making a quip about how the boy would certainly deserve it, he looked at her with his hypnotic, almost unbearably intense gaze, and said wonderingly, "You have cut the last of my strings."

Blushing, she found that she had nothing to say, and so she artlessly bypassed the subject, commenting, "But I don't think it will be necessary to send any hexes Draco's way. He wanted to come and visit you. He told me to thank you for what you did, and to tell you that he's glad you're alright, and sorry for what he's done."

Severus sighed and suddenly looked very tired. Marian wondered whether she might have let him sit up too long. When he spoke, she noticed that the raspy quality was completely absent. She wondered how long he had been sounding like himself before she had finally noticed it. "The boy is not to blame. It's those parents of his…spoiling him rotten and allowing him to mix with Death Eaters while still a child. Disgraceful….But I _am_ glad to hear his words. After all the trouble I underwent on his behalf, I suppose it's rather…gratifying."

She smiled at him before banishing their dishes to the kitchen and relating the rest of the story. Marian hesitated slightly before recounting everything she had seen while the Malfoys were under the spell. She wasn't quite sure how Severus would take the news that, in addition to removing the Dark Mark, the charm also appeared to give one an orgasm; but the inscrutable wizard continued to surprise her. He merely remarked drily, "Well, if we begin receiving frequent dinner invitations from the Malfoys, then at least we'll know why."

Later that afternoon, Marian opened the paper. Almost at once, she laughed aloud, causing him to look up at her with guarded amusement. He was curious as to what she would show him, as all too often his mischievous witch was directly (if secretly) involved in whatever news happened to be breaking. Triumphantly, she brought the paper over to Severus and automatically cast a levitating charm on it. "Read _that_!" she exclaimed proudly.

His eyes skimmed the article and she watched his face avidly as a slow, somewhat cruel smirk touched his lips. After a moment, he glanced up and murmured, "Well, I suppose I don't have to ask who the 'anonymous source' is."

"It's official: I'm a genius," she laughed, picking up a surprised Ms. Bear and twirling in place.

"And you stake that claim on a successful slander instead of on your charm that counteracts the Imperius Curse. Just like a woman," he sniffed disdainfully, or as disdainfully as one _can_ tacitly call someone a genius.

Knowing that he had only scanned the story, she read the headline aloud, "_Dolores Umbridge: A Portrait in Corruption_."

Marian and Severus looked at each other with identical smirks, and then she began to recite,_ "My loyal fan base knows that this journalist has a history of writing about what other reporters won't dare touch; and so none of you will be surprised to read this sensational story revealed by an anonymous source—a story all the more interesting because this reporter is directly involved in it."_

Severus scoffed and murmured derisively, "Skeeter _again_. She has quite the opinion of herself."

"Amen to that," Marian muttered, before continuing the story, _"Dolores Umbridge, former Under Secretary during Fudge's administration, former High Inquisitor at Hogwarts, former Head of the Muggle-born Registration Commission, and self-styled head of the War Crimes Tribunal, will be tried before the Wizengamot for war crimes herself, including, but not limited to: treason, attempted murder, and various corruption charges. The official in question exhibited no remorse, but during her interrogation by Aurors, even attempted to shamelessly use this reporter as a scapegoat."_

Marian glanced over at Severus, who looked like he had just been given all the gold in Gringotts. Smiling to herself, she continued, _"Dolores Umbridge rose to power under Cornelius Fudge, who appointed her Under Secretary and later High Inquisitor and Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. His administration will forever be known for its bumbling attempts to discredit the warnings of The-Boy-Who-Lived and Albus Dumbledore, keeping the wizarding world in ignorance of Voldemort's return, and giving him a critical advantage over us. Umbridge was his closest advisor and one of the main advocates of this head-in-the-sand policy._

_"The atrocities she has committed are numerous, including attempting to use Veritaserum against children while Headmistress of Hogwarts. She also intended to impose the Cruciatus Curse on war heroine, Hermione Granger, and on Harry Potter himself, but was foiled at the last possible moment."_

"She lifted that entire last paragraph from my letter," Marian commented disdainfully, although truthfully she was not terribly ruffled over the fact.

"That explains why it had no split infinitives," Severus noted contemptuously.

_"Despite her failures in government, this ruthless witch somehow connived to cling to power as the government toppled and was reformed, in the image of Voldemort himself. During Voldemort's Reign of Terror, she headed The Muggle-born Registry, which quickly became infamous for its disregard for human rights. She exhibited an enthusiasm for carrying out Voldemort's programs that rivaled that of Bellatrix LeStrange."_

Severus flinched every time Marian unthinkingly read the word 'Voldemort', forgetting that it triggered the Dark Mark to burn and pain him. Severus said acidly, "That infernal woman would never have _dared_ to say his name while he was alive, and now she's throwing it around like he was her _best pal_."

"I'm so sorry, Severus! I forgot. I'll censor it from now on," Marian exclaimed remorsefully.

_"In the hours following the war, the Muggle-born Registry was not formally abolished, since so many other matters needed attending to; although it was clear even to Umbridge that there was no place in the rebuilding of our society for a tribunal instituted by You-Know-Who to condemn witches and wizards for their blood status. Knowing this, Umbridge seamlessly made the transition from persecuting the innocent at You-Know-Who's behest to prosecuting his followers, changing the name (but not the spirit) of her former commission to the 'War Crimes Tribunal'. She also had the presumption to insinuate herself as its head._

_"This Ministry official has a jealous heart and resented the attention that this reporter has garnered for her sensational coverage of the war—since she wasn't involved in the war at all, eschewing the final battle so that she might shore up her crumbling power in the Ministry."_

"When will that woman realize that just because she refers to herself in the third person, she is not actually being impartial? She cannot simply say whatever comes into her head," he groused, much to Marian's glee.

_"When she heard that Severus Snape, a man that she had resented since her stint at Hogwarts for his superior abilities and checkered past, had been admitted to St. Mungo's and declared innocent by Harry Potter, she quickly rushed to the hospital and had the critically wounded man transferred to Dementor-guarded Azkaban as a power play to deny him medical aid."_

"Now _this_ is more like it!" Marian proclaimed victoriously.

_"She planned for him to die in prison of his wounds before he could be exonerated publicly. Even though the healers on the Creature-Induced Injuries floor objected and gave their opinion that Snape wouldn't survive the night, Umbridge was inexorable._

_"As if this was not heinous enough, while in a steamy bout of rough, four-way sex, she told her partners, since revealed to be Death Eaters, how to gain access to Azkaban, so that they might kidnap the dying man and torture him for betraying You-Know-Who."_

Snape snorted with surprise, before a devious, sated smile began to spread across his face.

_"Then, most reprehensible of all, she tried to cover her tracks by sending this reporter a message inviting her to house, promising her information. She hoped that she could lure her in, so that others would see her enter Umbridge's sumptuous apartments. She intended to frame her, and to cover for her Death Eater lovers by claiming to the arresting Aurors that Rita Skeeter had overpowered her and kidnapped Snape from Azkaban; although she later changed her account to include an unknown assailant by the name 'Metis'."_

" '_Metis_'? You called yourself 'Metis'?" the wizard asked, nearly quaking with amusement.

Marian practically pranced in delight that he had gotten the reference. "What do you think? Although I suppose the allusion was lost on Umbridge…and Skeeter," she remarked nonchalantly.

"Well, You're forever wanting me to praise you for your cleverness, and I find myself forever doing it….Incidentally, in addition to 'no man', _'Mētis'_ is the goddess of 'cunning mixed with wisdom'…although I presume that was part of your joke, _Odysseus_," he conceded approvingly, watching with amused satisfaction as she basked in his praise.

With a lingering, secret smile only for him, Marian continued the story, _"Umbridge completely ignored this blonde's good standing in the community and the inanity of the accusation. The day Severus Snape went missing from Azkaban, portkeyed away by a polyjuiced facsimile of Umbridge, Aurors broke into her home, and found the witch nude and unharmed, tied loosely to her bedpost and resting from her earlier exertions."_

At this, Severus threw back his head and laughed out loud, as he had not laughed in months. Marian watched him with dancing eyes, noting that his throat looked much better. When he settled back against the pillows once more, Marian recited the last bit of the story, _"Her trial is to be a matter of public record, and this reporter will keep you updated, even as she is forced to defend herself in court from this wicked witch's malicious slanders. She is, and has always been, a single-minded, envious woman with no conscience."_

"Is she referring to Umbridge or herself?" Severus asked sardonically.

"Well, the description suffices for them both," Marian returned.

_"As one of this reporter's devoted readers wrote, 'Good luck and keep up the great work. The wizarding world loves to stay informed.' Well, fear not, lovers of freedom and fair reporting-Rita Skeeter is on the case!"_

"Good heavens, Marian! That is the most delightful thing I've read in all my years of subscribing to the _Daily Prophet_," he announced, as he leaned back with a half-smile of satisfaction.

She grinned back at him, so pleased that her plan had worked. Justice would be done and her man finally avenged.

"Umbridge doesn't stand a chance. After this article, she'll be convicted for sure…although I imagine the Dementors will all be gone by the time she finally makes it over to Azkaban," Marian replied, pouting a little.

The new Minister of Magic had announced the scheduled destruction of the Dementors earlier in the week. Marian had been relieved, although she wondered if such a thing were possible. The Minister sounded very ambitious, and she suspected that, in the end, he would have to be content merely with expelling them from Britain—although that probably wouldn't make the neighboring countries very happy.

"A pity," he said in a hard voice, adding in lighter, mocking tones, "But I suppose one can't have everything….So tell me, Marian, is Umbridge's predicament all your handiwork?"

"Mostly," she confirmed casually, with a naughty smirk. She knew that she should probably be feeling guilty for being so ruthless and manipulative, but only felt relief…and a healthy dose of schadenfreude.

"You're a rather wicked little witch, aren't you?" he purred, in his rich, magnetic voice.

Her heart sped up at his tone, and with downcast eyes, she answered insincerely, "I suppose I should be ashamed of myself."

"But you're not, thank Merlin!" he replied with approval.

They spent the remainder of the day reading. They had finished _The Hobbit_ and _The Lord of the Rings_ and were currently searching for a new book. Severus gave her carte blanche yet again—to choose something she had read before, or something she had been meaning to read. She finally settled on some Arthurian myth, starting with one of her favorite tales, the story of Percival and the Grail. It was a very curious story, about an unsophisticated Welshman that went to King Arthur's court as a self-styled knight, and tried to fit into an artificial world whose rules he did not understand. This Percival set off to seek the Grail like the other knights, but lost his way, wandering for five years, forgetting God and his fellow man. Eventually, he met a hermit, who rebuked him for riding armed on Good Friday, and that proved to be the wakeup call Percival needed to change his life.

Severus secretly identified with Percival, and he was tempted to confess it to Marian, although he refrained at the last moment. He knew very well what it was like to forget everything that mattered—his humanity, his soul, and perhaps, something higher. Possibly, as crazy as it would sound to some, that 'something higher' was the God of Marian, the God of Percival.

He remained in a pensive frame of mind until it was time for bed. As Marian finished her ablutions and approached him to say good night, completely out of the blue, he commented, "You haven't been sleeping well."

"I have," she retorted, adding, "Well enough, anyway."

"You shouldn't be sleeping in a chair. You need to be able to recline fully and get a real night's sleep. I should have said something much sooner," Severus said, guilt lurking conspicuously behind his determined tones.

"It's alright. I'm rather used to it now," she said carelessly.

When he seemed about to dispute her, she unexpectedly rounded on him and exclaimed, in a voice throbbing with passion, "I know you're feeling better, but I'm not leaving you to go sleep in my own bed, so don't ask me to!"

She was playing into his hands. It was almost too easy, Severus thought with glee. He paused for a beat and pretended to mull things over. "Well, you intend to stay in the room. You must sleep in a bed, and there is only one bed in the room. I suppose the solution is obvious….You must sleep in it," he said, in a long-suffering voice.

With wide eyes, Marian exclaimed, "No, I couldn't!"

"Why not? You've done it before…and I was considerably more able then. Unless a medical miracle occurs overnight, your virtue will be quite safe," he commented in wry tones, attempting to disguise his overpowering yearning with assumed indifference.

She laughed a little and justified herself, "That's not what I was implying, you scoundrel! I meant that I don't want to _hurt_ you. You refuse to take the pain potions now, but your wounds are still…raw. And I know you must be bruised and sore…."

"I am," he admitted readily, "But unless you punch and kick in your sleep, I think that we will manage well enough."

He eyed her expectantly, and she found that all further objections died on her lips. She wanted to sleep near him as well. Carefully crawling in beside him, she propped herself up on the pillows and turned to gaze at his profile. His cheeks had a little more color and looked slightly less sunken. He could feel her perusal and rolled his body towards her. It was easier than turning his head. If he twisted it too far to the left, the scar tissue would stretch, causing it to itch and burn, and sometimes bleed a little. Her eyes continued to roam over him anxiously and he said tartly, "I won't break, Marian."

"You'd better not," she returned softly, reaching over to tuck the blanket around him, her hand lingering on his shoulder for a moment.

His eyes went suddenly warm and liquid, and he opened his mouth to speak, when all at once Ms. Bear began to whimper and whine. Marian met his eyes guiltily. "I'm sorry, Severus. I'll go put her in another room," she murmured.

As she moved to sit up, he reached out to detain her, and said high-handedly, "I don't wish to be kept awake by her yammering. The dog may sleep up here."

She looked at him incredulously and murmured teasingly, "But I thought you didn't approve of Ms. Bear."

"Well, the creature _is_ useless, but she sleeps with you every night and operates under the misapprehension that she's your child, although I have tried to set her straight on that score many times," Severus said acerbically.

His forbidding tones didn't fool Marian, which he seemed to realize, as he wouldn't look at her and proceeded to busy himself smoothing down the coverlet. In a low, delighted voice, she exclaimed, "You have a soft heart, Severus Snape!"

"I have nothing of the kind," he replied primly, but he couldn't squash the flutter of pleasure he felt at her words, which, had they come from anyone else, would have been interpreted as the grossest of insults.

Severus watched Marian as she wordlessly transfigured one of her slippers into a set of puppy-sized stairs, and then levitated them into position near the foot of the bed. He liked to watch her face while she did magic. The intensity of her expression excited and intrigued him, but he liked it best of all when he was the object of her focus.

Ms. Bear wasted no time, and ran up the stairs as quickly as her delicate little legs would take her. The tiny animal pranced back and forth between Marian and Severus, with her head tucked close to her body and a bashful expression on her face. He didn't understand how the creature could simultaneously strut about and look embarrassed, but he had to admit that he knew very little about dogs—although this petite, soft, enchanting creature hardly fit his conception of what a dog was. Marian lifted Ms. Bear and placed her on the far side of the bed, but to her consternation, and Severus' secret amusement, the puppy continued to clamber over her and approach him. The little dog was very curious about the strange man, who had long been unreachable up on the king-sized bed.

"Severus, I really don't know what's gotten into her," Marian said apologetically, watching the inquisitive dog with bemusement.

"Never mind. She'll grow bored soon enough," he posited.

His words proved to be quite true, as the dog curled into a tiny ball between them and fell asleep a few minutes later, lulled by their voices—and Severus' _was_ singularly soothing.

"I think I would like to try to stand tomorrow…and to walk, if possible," he said, gazing into her lustrous eyes, and noticing how prettily her long dark lashes framed them. She was exquisite, down to the last minute detail.

"Certainly, if you feel up to it," Marian responded. She had known this day was quickly approaching. The fact that he had been eager to sit up earlier proved that he was on the mend and regaining some of his strength and energy.

He wanted to say something else, but seemed a bit self-conscious. Finally he spat it out, "I suppose that it's time I answered calls of nature on my own, as well. I know that it's unhealthy to continue using excretion spells to empty the…organs."

"I'm glad you brought that up," she said at once, trying to mitigate his discomfort, "Tomorrow will be perfect. I suppose it's also time for another real bath—although we might put that off for a few days. The past few weeks, I've only been using cleansing charms, which aren't nearly as efficacious."

"You have…_bathed_ me before?" he asked in an odd voice.

"Twice. Once was when I first brought you here. There was so much blood….Anyway, the other time was after you had experienced a feverish night, and had become soaked with sweat…" she trailed off when she noticed his horrified expression, which he quickly masked.

"Well, I suppose that you've seen all I have to offer," he commented flippantly.

Marian was not misled by his light tone. She knew that she wouldn't have been thrilled if he had seen her naked for the first time while she was unconscious, caked in blood and filth. And so she rushed to reassure him. "You have nothing to worry about. I actually saw far less than you think. I kept a towel wrapped around your waist and didn't…_take any liberties_. Rest assured that I would never do _anything_ to you unconscious that you might object to when awake," she answered, gentle humor replacing her earnestness by the end of her words.

He still looked unconvinced, and a little troubled. Did he not believe her? Did he feel violated? Was he worried about what she had thought of him? Who could be savvy enough to interpret and soothe the many insecurities of this unfathomable spy? She felt woefully out of her depth, and decided that she was unequal to the task of interrogating him.

Sniffing impatiently, Marian carefully lifted Ms. Bear out of the way and placed her on the pillow behind her, before she slid forward into a very surprised Severus' arms. He felt very different from the last time she had rested against him. His delicate bones stuck out, and she could trace his vertebrae with her fingers, but decided against it, not wanting to make him feel more self-conscious. The thin fabric of his shirt did little to mask his condition. Severus' body struck her as very frail, and she felt a wave of affection for the much-misused wizard. Ever so gently, she cradled him in her arms, placing her cheek against the crook of his neck on the uninjured side. He relaxed into her embrace, and she murmured to him, "Severus, you know how much I respect you. I've learned some things since I swore that Unbreakable Vow, mainly that I can't stand disappointing you. I would rather die than do anything to hurt or violate you."

He said nothing, content to be held by her. He didn't know what his future had in store. Severus had never experienced any life outside Hogwarts, except for a brief stint as an apprentice and his miserable lonely summers in Spinner's End. A creature of habit, he supposed that he would probably go back there, to his dark, cramped house—a burial chamber, really—and brew potions under a pseudonym. Perhaps he could sell them to foreign hospitals. Teaching was out of the question—not that he had ever particularly enjoyed _that_ to begin with.

But tomorrow he would be standing. Soon he would be walking; and after too much more time passed, he would have to pick himself up and leave his life here with Marian—his happiest time, in spite of the discomfort and aggravation caused by his wounds. Perhaps they would stay in touch, but she would probably grow bored with him. He had never been one to draw or keep friends. Whatever mystique had accompanied his double agent status would quickly fade, and she would gradually realize that there was nothing special about him at all, that he really _was_ just an ugly, jaded, emotionally-stunted man. And once she found a lover, it would be all over. It was inevitable that she would. She was perfect! Who _wouldn't_ love her? He couldn't fathom any man turning her away.

But the way she pressed closely against him in her sleepy state, the way her soft curves molded to his body, and her arms wrapped against his back, shielding him, made his dreams surface once more. If only this could last, if only it could develop! If she would marry him…if he dared to ask such a thing of her.


	35. Chapter 35

Chapter 35: A Hope and a Future

The next morning, Marian awoke a little before he did, but didn't disturb him. He had rolled onto his back during the night, and she had followed him, with one arm flung dangerously low across his stomach, and her body nestled beneath his sinewy arm. When she glanced around her, she saw that her puppy had curled up and was sleeping between Severus' shoulder and cheek on his good side, and that the exhausted wizard seemed to be leaning into the furriness a little bit. The sight was ridiculously cute. If only his former students and fellow Death Eaters could see him now, she thought with amusement. As humorous as Marian found that thought, she was still terribly pleased that she was the only one to have seen him like this—the only one to sleep in his arms.

Marian finally rose, after giving him a gentle kiss on the cheek. Ms. Bear cocked open one eye, but the lazy puppy decided that she was quite comfortable where she was, and quickly dozed off again. When she returned with breakfast a while later, she met the unexpected sight of Severus sitting up unassisted, and gingerly stroking the soft fur of the little dog that was frisking about, rolling onto its back and kicking out all four feet, while making playful squeaking noises.

When she came into the room, he quickly pretended to be ignoring the dog and began attempting to swing his legs off the side of the bed. Marian saw how much even this effort exhausted him, and so she quickly transfigured a Muggle walker and placed it across from him. "What is this…contraption?" he asked irritably.

"A Muggle device. Just something that you can pull up on—to help you stabilize yourself….It's a bit like that cane your uppity friend, Malfoy, carries around, only this offers a bit more support, and will only be temporary, thank goodness," Marian answered, all business. She knew good and well that there was no way he could stand unassisted, and she thought that this would help him be a bit more independent.

He reached for it, but she stopped him by plucking on his sleeve and said, "Wait a moment. I don't suppose you should put any weight on your right arm. You might reopen something. Let me help you a little."

He nodded stiffly, and braced himself for the exertion. It was a disaster. Even with her assistance, his weakened body trembled violently with the effort; but he refused to give up, no matter how many times he sank back onto the bed. She could tell that he was growing furious with himself; and she worried that he would end up on the floor if he wasn't careful. He was no longer behaving sensibly in his attempts. Now he had something to prove. Marian was surprised when he finally managed to hold himself erect, although he was frighteningly pale and looked as though he might faint. But there was something so grim and determined in his features that she suspected that, if she let him, he would continue far past what was physically safe for him to do, fueled by stubbornness and will alone. "Would you like to sit outside again?" she asked hesitantly, wanting to keep him from venturing too far.

He nodded sharply, not wanting to speak and give away how breathless he was. She quickly moved the chair back to the porch and walked—or rather stumbled-with him through the doors, grasping him around the waist so that some of his weight landed on her rather than his mangled right shoulder. Once he was safely seated, he valiantly tried to hold himself straight and to keep from showing exactly how difficult that short walk had been.

Marian wasn't sure what she could say that wouldn't be patronizing, so she refrained and served him his breakfast, hoping to distract him by chatting and pointing out some landmarks around her home. The ruse succeeded, and he gradually lost his angry expression, which she intuited was motivated by self-loathing.

Marian determined that he not walk anymore that day, and so she left the room and returned with her grandmother's wheelchair. She suspected that he would react to this plan marginally better than to her back-up, which was simply to levitate him into the bathroom like a piece of furniture. The moment she rolled the chair into his line of sight, however, his lip curled into a nasty sneer.

But before he could begin to castigate her, she forestalled him, exclaiming guiltily, "Severus, I'm such an idiot! If any real healer heard about what I put you through today, I'd probably find myself facing charges. What was I thinking—allowing a critically injured man that had just spent over a month on his back to immediately jump up and walk? I just feel so stupid!"

He looked as though he wanted to speak, but she cut him off again, saying, "You're proud and independent, Severus, with a will of iron. But you will only hurt yourself more if we continue at this pace. Right now, your muscles have atrophied and you're still hypovolemic. I think we need a new game plan. Even sitting up straight is going to be exhausting for you at first. But we can start there. You could sit up a little each day, until we're finally up to several hours a day. This wheelchair would enable you to go around the whole house and even outside, if you'd like.

"Once your body has replenished more of its blood, and your stamina has gradually improved, we can begin transferring from the bed to the wheelchair and back. And finally walking short distances—to the toilet and such. Soon your wounds will have healed enough to begin doing strengthening exercises for your right shoulder…."

"Very well, _mistress_. It's obvious that my opinion hardly matters anyway," Severus said acerbically, his burning black eyes sweeping over the landscape, instead of her.

She approached him, tightening the belt on her buttery, rose-colored robe before sinking into the chair at his side. "That isn't true. I won't do_ anything_ to you against your will. _Ever._ But it really frightens me to see you hurting yourself. And so I'm asking for you to spare me that," she finished in a small voice.

He laughed lightly, bitterly, "You're good. You really are. And if you could manufacture a few tears, you'd_ really_ have me going."

Marian blanched with dismay and Severus knew at once that he had succeeded in hurting her. "Is that what it will take, Severus?" she asked in a quiet, controlled voice.

Instantly, he closed off. He didn't apologize; he didn't do anything. His face was a mask. But Marian had gotten better at reading him, and she sensed his distress. He was hopelessly frustrated at himself and his situation, but hadn't meant to upset her. She sighed, and he glanced up, startled, as the recliner began to expand. Once it was a little bit wider, she slipped in beside him and cuddled up, wordlessly summoning the airy down comforter from the bedroom and reclining the chair as far back as it would go. There had been rain the night before, so the air was slightly chillier than was usual in late summer. She felt Severus shiver beside her.

She could tell that he was tense, but was relaxing more every moment. Marian had no desire for a stressful discussion. That was the last thing he needed, and so there was no cause for the conversation to proceed further. She already knew that he was exhausted and lashing out at her because of how disappointed he was in himself. And so instead of forcing him to apologize, either by arguments or the silent treatment, she simply placed her head against his shoulder and wrapped an arm around his wasted form. Gradually, they both drifted off to sleep.

The midday-sun woke them both almost simultaneously, and Marian felt much refreshed. She hoped that Severus did as well. She intended his bath to be a relaxing time, rather than another physical test. He made no sign when she rose and locked the wheelchair into place beside him. "Are you ready to bathe?" she asked kindly.

For a moment, she could see hesitation in those dark, sleep-softened eyes, but it vanished almost instantly. "Lead on," he responded, in his usual urbane, unruffled tones.

Once they arrived in the bathroom, Marian turned on the tap, before changing the water an opaque, cloudy color with a spell. He glanced up at her and quirked an eyebrow. "That's _not_ how it's done," he murmured, eying her handiwork with a mixture of disdain and amusement.

"Show me, then! I mean…tell me the incantation," Marian amended, blushing faintly. She had tried to master the water opalescence spell. Now she was wishing that she had tried a great deal harder.

"You couldn't work it out for yourself? My, my…I confess myself disappointed. You were said to be such a _clever_ little witch," he mocked in his purring, cultured voice. Amusement gleamed in his predatory eyes.

"Well, I've been rather busy lately, breaking notorious wizards out of Azkaban…that sort of thing," she retorted pertly.

His lips curled into a sinful smirk at her words, but he suddenly paused, and Marian could see him concentrating. "Stop that," she admonished, "I know what you're doing, but you'll only wear yourself out if you try to do spells."

But she should have known better. Moments later the water lapped against the side of the tub in surging cascades of sparkles. He must have mentally reworked the spell to make it wandless. She was impressed in spite of herself, but unsurprised when he slumped bonelessly in his chair. "You insufferable man," she purred reprovingly, ruffling his oily strands lightly with her fingertips.

He sat up a bit straighter when he felt her reach around his neck to untie his hospital-gown or 'shirt' as they both euphemistically referred to it. Suddenly, his hands were covering hers, restraining her. "Is something wrong?" she asked anxiously.

"_No_," he replied quickly, slightly breathless.

She leaned forward and pressed her soft cheek to his slightly roughened one. "How would you like us to proceed?" she inquired, in a voice that was tinged with humor.

"I suppose that you may do as you did before when you had your way with me," he answered drily.

His words reminded her of the time she had undressed and joined him in the water, and she blushed involuntarily. Luckily, she was still standing behind him, so he couldn't view her expression. If he had caught sight of her flushed face, there was no telling what conclusion he would have drawn. Marian gently pinched his earlobe in response to his baiting.

"But I can see that you're intent on expanding your repertoire. Unless…_surely_ you don't go about pinching unconscious men," Severus replied prissily, as though that possibility were too scandalous to be believed.

She rolled her eyes in mock frustration and muttered, "Well, I guess you'll never know."

Before he could reply, Marian carefully levitated him, shirtless, and then levitated a towel to wrap about him, as she magically removed his shorts. Very delicately she set him down in the water. "How's the temperature?"

"Tolerable," he responded tersely, judiciously removing the sopping towel from his person and placing it on the side of the tub with a loud plop.

Marian noticed that his playful mood had faded in an instant, to be replaced with edgy insecurity. She knew that he was sensitive about his hair. It had hardly escaped her attention that every time she had touched it he had reflexively tensed. But the truth was that this habit had diminished of late, and now, even when he did flinch, his discomfort was instantly chased away by obvious pleasure. And in spite of everything, touching his hair still felt less invasive than washing his body, so she decided to start with that, and reached for the shampoo. She knelt on the tile behind him and began tenderly to lather the crown of his head, massaging his scalp thoroughly, and filling the air with a spicy, soothing aroma. As her fingers stroked through the slippery strands, he seemed to be relaxing, and so she decided to ask him something that she had been burning with curiosity to know.

"Severus, what do you want out of life? I mean…what do you dream about doing? ...What's your ideal life? Now that you're not a wanted man, what do you intend to do once you're healed?" she asked pensively.

He tensed and responded pedantically, "Each time you rephrase your question, you wind up asking a different one…and none of them have simple answers, except perhaps the last."

"Oh, pick one, then!" she replied in exasperation, as she began to pour glassfuls of the shimmering water over his hair.

But he merely replied obstinately, "Well, I could ask the same of you."

She decided not to press him further, wisely realizing that it was difficult enough for such a private man to bare his body to her. No wonder he didn't wish to expose his soul and his secrets as well. She began to wash his back and shoulders, lathering them with a washrag in smooth, firm motions. He sighed softly at her touch. "Tell me," he murmured irreverently, after a long pause where he simply enjoyed her ministrations, "Is there more outrageous risk-taking in your future? Do you plan to fight in any more foreign wars, or trouble yourself over dragons' hoards?"

"When you phrase it like that, you make me sound downright _reckless_," Marian responded conversationally, before transfiguring her attire into a black one-piece bathing suit and stepping cautiously down into the tub, much to Severus' apprehension…and appreciation.

His eyes flit back and forth, unconsciously gauging the distance between himself and the witch. He sniffed at her answer and replied acidly, "That was my intention precisely."

She handed him a washcloth that she had lathered with soap and eyed him meaningfully, before turning away and pretending to busy herself with organizing the hair products in order to give him some privacy.

Once all noise of moving water had ceased, she turned around, producing another rag. As she meticulously washed his legs, her fingers brushing sensuously through their mazes of dark hairs that waved weightlessly in the water, she began to speak thoughtfully, "I'm not sure what the future holds. If nothing life-altering happens, I suppose that I'll continue to work freelance as a curse-breaker. I'll travel…invent spells. I'll keep this house, and maybe the one in England."

She gave a peculiar laugh and added, "With no one to depend on you, there's a dreadful kind of independence. So perhaps I _will_ take a few risks—for a worthy cause, of course."

Severus eyed her with a quiet intensity as she soaped up his chest and arms, making an effort to work around his injuries, even though there was no need to be so cautious, as they were protected by spells. She carefully examined his wounds, her fingers ghosting from puncture to puncture.

"Three years ago, you said a similar thing to me, but so much has changed since then...You do not sound particularly delighted with your plan. Is this not what you want?" he asked quizzically, and tried to ignore her lovely figure, so close to his, although he was rather relieved and horrified that his body wasn't reacting to her-not even the faintest stirring. Clearly, he must be more weak and anemic than he had imagined.

"No….I mean, I _do_ enjoy this life. It's a very happy, interesting, and satisfying one….It's just that now I know there's something greater to be had, and I can't help but want it," she answered, studiously not looking at his face as she lifted his right arm to sponge beneath it.

He winced and asked, "Children?"

In surprise, she shot him a quick, assessing glance. "No, I've never really desired them….I suppose you'll think me an 'unnatural woman'," she answered with a trace of cynicism.

"Hardly," he replied, and the one clipped word spoken in his educated, rational voice reassured her more than a whole speech would have done.

But she felt the need to explain herself, to seek his good opinion. Sighing, she confessed in a rush, "It's more that I've never really thought about it. I suppose my biological clock should be about ready to explode by now, but perhaps something's wrong with me, because I don't feel it at all….I don't actively desire children, and I don't think I ever will, to be honest. Although if I were married and the man I loved wanted them, I would have them happily, and I would love them extravagantly…I know I would, if my feelings for Ms. Bear are anything to go by. If we didn't intend to have children, but I became pregnant anyway, the same thing would apply."

After listening to her intently, he responded oddly, "And so if a man didn't wish for children, or was unable to have them…that wouldn't be a deal-breaker for you?"

She threw back her head and laughed, and he noticed that the steam from the tub was causing her hair to curl delicately around her temples. "Of course not!" she scoffed, and continued spiritedly, "In fact, it would suit me perfectly...There are very few deal-breakers for me, besides lack of character. No, Severus, if I married a man, it would be for his own sake—not for any kind of benefit….And I would never leave him."

She looked a bit embarrassed after her impassioned words, hoping that he wouldn't see through her, because she was all too aware of her own transparency. Marian was wishing desperately that she hadn't brought up the subject.

"So you allow for the possibility of marriage—is that the 'life-altering' event you spoke of? How would it affect your plans? Would you continue to be a soldier-of-fortune?" he asked a little too quickly, in a tone that was part teasing, part wistful.

"You're making fun of me," she murmured reproachfully, as she trailed her soapy fingers across his chest, inadvertently making him tremble.

"Never," he breathed, in a sardonic whisper.

"Well, yes. I think that you'd agree with me that marriage is rather 'life-altering'," she replied defensively.

When she saw lively curiosity rather than mockery in his eyes, she continued a bit more confidently. "To answer your question, I suppose I wouldn't do anything _particularly_ reckless. When you're married, you become one with another person. You're not living only for yourself anymore. I think that's really the wonder and the infuriation of marriage. But in any case, a life with the right man would be…extraordinary. _Everything_ would be better."

"Are you sure you would recognize this 'right man'?" he asked flippantly, although he eagerly awaited her reply.

Marian stilled for a moment and looked him in the eye. "Of course," she all but whispered.

This was the moment when he should have spoken up, should have asked whether _he_ was that man, but Severus dreaded her denial and lost his nerve. He cursed himself for his lapse afterwards, and was reminded of the story Marian had read to him a few weeks before, about the knight, Percival, who had seen the Grail procession, but had earlier been warned against talking too much, and so had remained silent, neglecting to ask the question that would have set everything right.

Instead, he cleared his throat and entreated softly, "Tell me what it would it be like."

Growing caught up in her dreams; Marian forgot for a moment that this wizard was off-limits while he was injured. She thought only of her love for him, and how remarkable life would be if they could share it. Her emotion spilled into her speech, pulling him out of his dejection, and making his heart thrill with longing for her and the things she described. "Severus, it could be so _good_. We would just...be together, enjoying and discovering each other. Think about how our lives would be enriched by having someone to trust, confide in...share dreams and ideas. We would respect and take care of one another.

"We would be co-conspirators, having so much fun together. If we wanted, we could travel the world, exploring and having adventures. But it would be unnecessary. My fulfillment would come from being close to him, and I would find my happiness wherever we were together. I would value a quiet life with _this_ man over all the empires and treasure on earth.

"I would work for his happiness, achieving whatever I could in order to heap it all up and lay it at his feet. I wouldn't want to undertake _anything_ without his blessing-no triumph would hold any meaning without it.

"To live life with someone that you could cherish and rely on, who would protect your interests no matter what…I can't think of anything more wonderful than that. _Everything_ would be enhanced by that sort of camaraderie and support. Who knows? I might finally be inspired to turn my hand to writing the fantasy book I've always dreamed about.

"The thing about real love is that it transforms everything it touches, even the most mundane parts of life….You don't have to say it. I can see your lip curling as I speak, and you think that I'm a ridiculous romantic idealist, who ought to know better at my age. But the thing is, even though I'm content with my life now, I understand that there's something higher—something greater…_And I want it_," she practically purred.

Marian's cheeks were flushed with enthusiasm as she confided in him, and she slowly rinsed the vestiges of soap, sponging around his body in great detail. He felt an ache in his heart as he watched her, and instead of responding with derision, answered with a non sequitur, which dragged sinfully over his tongue, "You didn't mention love-making."

"That _was_ remiss of me..._Well_, it goes without saying that it would be powerful, transcendent, exquisitely pleasurable. It would get even better over time, because _my _man-the one I marry-is special...ageless, fascinating...unequivocal. And I'll love him with my whole soul. _'Other men cloy the appetites they feed, but he makes hungry where most he satisfies'_," she whispered fervently, feeling more than a little aroused by the way he was looking at her.

She realized suddenly that she was much closer to him than she had been a few moments before, only inches away, and that she had dropped the wet rag and was hungrily running her fingers over the planes of his chest, almost without thought. Marian was burning for his touch, going absolutely wild for him, and the insufferable man had done nearly nothing to get her so worked up. He had merely listened to her, occasionally responding with his customary sarcasm in that velvety voice, and watching her with those relentless black eyes that could pierce through mystery and deceit…although she had the unnerving feeling that they could do more than that even. She felt that he stared into her soul and laid claim, permanently branding her as his own.

Marian's feather-light strokes had moved from his chest and arms to his throat and jaw-line. He swallowed convulsively as she traced his Adam's apple with her forefinger in utter fascination. He reached out and gently wiped some foam from her silky shoulder, his touch hesitant at first, but gradually growing surer. Severus licked his lips and said in thick accents, "The one you choose…will be the most fortunate of men."

With great effort, she dragged herself out of her erotic haze. Feeling vaguely horrified at the way she had been pawing at her charge, Marian stood abruptly, sending a surge of water over the side of the tub. She turned away to grab a towel, but not before he saw the look of guilt in her eyes. Did she feel that she was betraying her ideal? This man she hadn't met yet, this _absolute bastard_ that would come in and take everything that Severus himself so desperately desired-this man destined to live the wonderful life she had roughly outlined?

He suddenly knew that he couldn't allow it. Severus couldn't face a future without her in it. He might as well commit suicide now if he was going to be sidelined to Spinner's End, or, best case scenario, roam the world like a wraith, alone and forgotten. He had seen the yearning in her eyes; felt the throb of passion in her touch…his case was far from lost. Although, in the depths of his soul, he felt a little hurt by the knowledge that, even if he managed to triumph, and she succumbed to him, that he would be the consolation prize—'Mr. Right Now'—rather than the deepest desire of her heart.

Marian regained command of herself and transfigured her wet swimsuit into a short, simple gown of daffodil-yellow. It clung to her very distractingly for those few long moments before she remembered the drying charm. She was a little skittish around Severus for the rest of the day.

That afternoon, she stayed away from him, busying herself in the kitchen making a delicious-smelling pot roast for dinner, with rice and green beans, insisting that all of the leftovers could be added to another pot of vegetable soup, which he had requested she serve again. Marian was far from a gourmet chef, and had spent little time cooking over the years, but she had a long memory. The witch clearly recalled the countless happy, childhood afternoons that she had spent perched on the kitchen counter, observing her mother and grandmother. She had received many impromptu lessons on how to make traditional, hearty fare, although she had never developed a passion for cooking. For this reason, and because she had only ever cooked for herself, she had not bothered to expand her repertoire or add anything to her inherited recipes.

Marian had practical, rather than refined, tastes when it came to food, and would have been just as pleased with a piece of meat that had been roasted on a spit over a campfire (with a little salt) as she would have been with a steak of Kobe beef at one of the finest restaurants in the world. But just because _she_ tolerated microwave dinners, didn't mean that she found them remotely acceptable for Severus. Marian would ensure that he enjoyed the best she had to offer.

The stubborn wizard had refused to return to bed after his bath, remaining in his wheelchair to hold onto the sense of power that came with his newly-recovered mobility. Being up and about comforted him and made him feel more self-reliant than he had felt while lying uselessly in bed. But eventually, the novelty wore off, and with exaggerated unconcern, he wheeled into the kitchen to watch her as she rolled out homemade biscuits.

Truthfully, he didn't quite know what to do with himself. He was used to being alone—had known very little else his whole life, but now that he had experienced how comforting her quiet companionship could be, had found himself missing her dreadfully. His neediness both alarmed and disgusted him. Severus had explored the house a little, but nothing had satisfied him. He had felt restless sitting outside alone, when, even there, his sensitive nostrils could detect the delightful aromas broadcasting her presence in the kitchen. And so he had rolled quietly over to the kitchen table, where he would be out of her way, and proceeded to watch her with a keen, calculating gaze.

She lacked his technique when it came to chopping and measuring, but he still found her movements elegant and efficient—although he would never have admitted the fact had she been one of his students. Severus had thought almost obsessively about what Marian had confided in the tub, and found himself even more hopelessly entwined than before. Judging by the things she had said, she longed for the life that he had envisioned in his wildest fantasies, and, what was more, she intended to achieve it. He found himself inspired by her dream. A whisper in his heart that nothing had ever quite managed to silence grew suddenly deafening, as it suggested that such a life was possible…moreover, that it might be his…_theirs_.

Severus had been shocked to find a full-grown witch that viewed marriage with the same reverence he did. To him, it was the ultimate Unbreakable Vow. He could not account for his instinctive view on the matter, and had often derided himself for his idealistic vision of this Christian sacrament—or 'bonding' as it was referred to in the wizarding world-because his one experience with it-his parents' marriage—had hardly been positive. And yet, he dreamed. In Severus' loyal mind, the logical progression of romance included marriage. He couldn't fathom loving anyone deeply without totally committing to them. It simply wasn't in his nature to do things half-way. To the woman he loved, he would offer his protection, his name, all of himself.

After several hours of being studiously ignored by the pretty witch, who was currently baking a lemon icebox pie, he began to feel rather…woebegone, which was unheard of for him. But it displeased and unsettled him that she avoided his glances. As his neck began to throb and his energy flagged, he decided that this state of affairs must come to an end. "Marian," he finally called, causing her to turn and look at him with wide, guilty eyes.

"I think I'd like to lie down," he confessed faintly, feeling strangely exposed.

Her eyes softened at once, knowing that he must have felt exhausted indeed to have admitted it. She had neglected him, and regretted her inattention, which had forced him to humble himself to her. She meant to anticipate his needs, not to ignore them. "I'm so sorry! I completely lost track of time. I never meant to leave you up for so long...But your timing couldn't be more perfect. All the dishes have been set in motion. Magic will do the rest," she replied, as she pushed him easily back to his room.

After she had fluffed his pillows and levitated him back into bed, it took all of Severus' pride to prevent him from sinking ecstatically into the mattress and wallowing about on the freshly-laundered sheets. Ms. Bear had no such reluctance, he noticed, as she suddenly appeared beside him and began her revelry, after having ascended the doggy stairs, which he supposed were to be a permanent fixture in his room.

"Would you like to take a nap before dinner?" she asked, and even though she still seemed slightly jumpy around him, couldn't resist stroking a lock of hair out of his eyes.

"Tell me—the 'Bible' is your holy book, is it not?" he asked diffidently.

Tilting her head in curiosity, she answered, "Yes, that's right. I'm a Christian."

"Would you…read it to me? I mean, from the beginning?" he asked, voicing a desire he had had for some time.

But Marian couldn't have known this, and blurted out, "There's nothing I would rather do….But why do you want to hear it?"

Feeling slightly like a treed animal, Severus repressed his tendency to retaliate with sarcasm and answered truthfully. "Because I want to know what you believe….And because I remember you reading from it before, back when I was unable to answer you. I found it…comforting," he replied slowly and contemplatively.

"I see," she mused quietly, regarding him with large, bright, sea-colored eyes filled with tenderness.


	36. Chapter 36

Chapter 36: The Tension Grows

Days passed; each one more delightful than the one before. Severus was well-versed in Muggle history, and they had many lively discussions over their Old Testament readings. His observations were often insightful, and sometimes maddening. He had especially approved of the 'eye for an eye' principle. It had taken Marian quite some time to convince him that that particular law no longer applied amongst Christians, as it had been eclipsed by something greater, the New Covenant. He had been immensely irritated when he found out that it would take a while before they reached that part in the book. But he quickly recovered from his disappointment, and was very interested in everything she read to him, demanding interpretations when passages were obscure.

Severus' mind was almost unbearably sharp, and his questions tested her knowledge of many things, prompting her on several occasions to retrieve books so that they might research the answers together. But she loved these times, and felt a newfound respect for him. Though a total novice, he was so discerning that he often discovered truths that she had overlooked, and her faith and understanding grew from these interactions.

He sat up more and more each day, and was at last able to transfer himself and use the restroom under his own power, which was a tremendous relief for him. He had rolled his wheelchair all over the bungalow, inspecting it with great interest. It proved much larger than he had imagined. Although all on one level, the home was built on a hillside, causing some of the first floor windows to appear to be two or three stories high—including his. He had found a flight of stairs, but didn't know whether they led to a finished basement or not. That was a mystery that he would solve later, when he no longer depended on wheels for mobility.

One thing that surprised him was how many rooms were completely unused, and devoid of all furniture. When he asked Marian about it, she had shrugged and told him that it was a lot of house for one person, and that since she hadn't actually _needed_ the space, she hadn't used it. She said that the rooms would wait until she discovered a purpose for them, and commented off-handedly that she preferred to work with virgin territory. Severus had eyed her pointedly and echoed that sentiment, which had caused her cheeks to flush, much to her dismay and his exultation.

Severus heard her calling his name and quickly finished perusing her bedroom through the open door. He wheeled swiftly to the kitchen, where he met the sight of a delighted witch brandishing a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ in the air like a torch.

"Guess what!" she crowed.

"Must I really?" he replied drily, earning a look of mock-disapproval.

But his mild sarcasm didn't even come close to quelling her enthusiasm. "Draco and Narcissa are acquitted of all war crimes. _Apparently_, the absence of the Dark Mark proved to be the deciding factor," she announced, preening a little.

"Try not to gloat, darling," Severus replied, deliberately testing the endearment.

She grinned joyfully at him and exclaimed, "I can't help it, Severus! They could have gotten life-imprisonment."

"Fair enough. But you never did say what happened to Lucius," he pointed out.

"I was getting to that, my impatient one," she replied with laughter in her voice.

He raised an eyebrow at her impertinence, but instead of being intimidated, she thought he looked adorable. Her smile grew until she walked up to him and stroked his shoulder affectionately. "His charges were mitigated, and he's been given some community service and a hefty fine—which is far better than he deserves. But hopefully he's finally learned his lesson," she said, doubt evident in her voice.

Severus chuckled quietly and retorted, "Unlikely. But I imagine he _will_ think twice before enlisting under any new dark wizards."

"There's more news, and I suppose I should be sorry for it, and that the fact that I'm not is just evidence of the blackness of my soul," she began.

"As if we needed more evidence on that score," Severus said slyly.

She tugged his hair lightly, causing him to tilt his head back, and then she kissed him playfully on the tip of his nose before releasing him. Severus looked far less formidable after his smug expression was replaced by one of bemusement, with pinked cheeks and ruffled hair. "As I was saying, _my dear professor_, it appears that Umbridge has received a life sentence in Azkaban, and will be eligible for parole in fifty years. The article says, and I quote, _'that her attempted murder of Severus Snape was the charge that convinced the Wizengamot to see her as the malicious monster that she is, rather than just another corrupt Ministry official'_….You're finally avenged," she murmured in a fierce voice, which made Severus feel unaccountably warm and safe.

"Yes. Skeeter's article is to blame for the conviction…so I suppose the credit goes to you," he added, still reveling in her protectiveness.

"Would it be terribly wicked if I suggested we celebrate?" Marian asked, pulling out a chair at the table and sitting beside him, eying him expectantly.

She watched hungrily as his thin, lovely mouth curved into a smirk and he answered in his trademark silky drawl, "Of course it would, and I'll second the motion."

That night Severus Snape watched his first movie. He had been rather dubious at first, but it had not been hard for Marian to convince him. He had left the selection of the film entirely up to her. Having long been a successful spy, and hence a remarkably clever and observant man, he paid close attention to everything that was of interest to him. And she was the most interesting thing of all. He loved her, and wanted to know everything about her. The enamored wizard viewed Marian's film selection as a potential opportunity to develop a more complete knowledge of her and to gain insight into what interested her and gave her pleasure.

Her sofa had reclining seats, and so they curled up together drinking champagne and watching _Raiders of the Lost Ark_ until late in the evening. He found himself completely surprised at how much he enjoyed the strange story, conveyed to them through a uniquely Muggle form of entertainment. But the whole experience was wonderful, whether he was watching the screen or the myriad expressions that flitted across her face.

Marian often looked at him to gauge whether he was enjoying himself, but it was more as a reflex than because she was actually in doubt. The normally enigmatic wizard was obviously completely captivated. He often forgot himself and spoke aloud, whether it was to warn the characters or to berate them for their stupidity. She found everything about him adorable, and had to suppress the powerful urge to slide into his arms and kiss him into oblivion.

As they lay side by side in bed that night, gazing through the filmy curtains and open doors at the gloriously starry sky, Severus spoke up. He had obviously been thinking about the movie, and said musingly, "You know, the Americans shouldn't have been so concerned about their enemies getting hold of the Ark in the first place. Did they really think that God would be at the beck and call of the Nazis? Have they never read in the Bible about what God did to the Philistines when _they_ captured the Ark of the Covenant?"

She turned to look at him in amusement and asked suspiciously, "I suppose not…and how the devil do _you_ know about it, Severus? That story doesn't happen until 1 Samuel, and we're only in Exodus."

He looked slightly horrified at his slip, worried that Marian would no longer read to him if he confessed that he had been reading ahead while she cooked or was otherwise engaged. Really, he had very little else to do. But being a versatile man, he answered without missing a beat, with as authoritative an inflection as he could manage, "I have my ways."

Her laughter floated on the breeze and she answered, "Well, if Indiana Jones had been a theologian of your caliber, I suppose we would have been watching a very different sort of movie."

"Quite so," he replied, in a tranquil, ironic tone, and glanced at her with a glint of welcome humor in his eye.

Marian laughed aloud in surprised delight, and before she could censor her words, _"I love you, Severus Snape!"_ bubbled up from her heart and out her lips.

They both froze for a beat, and then he took her chin in his hand and delicately tilted it up, carefully searching her eyes. In quiet earnestness, he whispered, "Do you?" his soft words throbbing with meaning.

Marian could not lie to him when he looked at her like that, but she refused to give him the assurance he sought, telling herself that she was doing the honorable thing, refraining from forcing her love on him while he was so vulnerable, although part of her wondered if embarrassment and insecurity were more to blame than her supposed sense of fair play. Nevertheless, she held herself proudly uncommunicative, kept her lips firmly shut, and peeked at him through her lashes. After a moment, he sighed and released her.

"Very well," he said coolly, his eyes shuttered once again. Before she could react he closed his eyes, calling out "Goodnight, Marian," with unnerving finality.

Marian shivered, feeling suddenly alone on the far side of the bed. Even Ms. Bear had deserted her to snuggle with Severus. She had never thought she would be jealous of her own puppy. Part of her marveled that the wizard had wanted her to confirm her spontaneous declaration. How could he doubt that she loved him after everything? She felt that her actions practically screamed it from the rooftop. Was he really so insecure?

She reflected that things could have gone very differently if he had taken advantage of her blunder and kissed her. In her heart, she knew that she had never been able to resist him. If he had taken her into his arms, instead of demanding she repeat those rash, honest words, she would have been his that very moment. She would have thought only of her own desperate love, and been unable to remember her detailed fears that she might not be what was best for him.

But the moment had passed. She could feel the waves of anger rolling across the bed, but didn't know what to say to make it right…or perhaps she _did_ know, but was afraid.

For the next few days, they behaved almost normally, although a trace of formality tainted all their interactions. At any rate, neither spoke a word about what had transpired the night before. But the moment one turned away, each eyed the other in nervous speculation. During daylight hours, there was no more casual touching, although it had hardly been casual even before.

Severus wasn't sleeping very well. Marian was highly attuned to him, and frequently awoke to the sound of him moving restlessly; she could tell by his face that he was troubled by nightmares. His constant exhausted, fractious state was hardly conducive to a speedy recovery. In fact, the state of affairs degenerated to such a degree that even Ms. Bear finally had to abandon her post, disliking the way he jostled her out of sleep.

Marian often reached towards him in the night, unable to stay away when he was helpless and distressed. Her touch always had an immediate calming effect, causing him to go still and gradually settle down to real sleep. Perhaps her caress had such an obvious, physical power over Severus because he had gone without human contact for so many years. But the moment she would wake, she would spring back to her side of the bed as though stung. Severus often stirred to find her in his arms, and her eagerness to escape him each morning hardly eluded him either. But he assumed that she gravitated towards him in the night accidentally; never guessing that she deliberately approached him, unable to bear him suffering in his sleep.

One afternoon, Marian received a Floo call, and took it in the den, where Severus eyed the proceedings with great curiosity. Even though Harry Potter's messy black hair rose in the flames, Severus couldn't see him, blocked by a spell that Marian had long ago cast on all her hearths. People might Floo her, but were only able to see the face of the person speaking to them, and nothing of the inside of her house. Conversely, Marian could only view the caller if she was on her knees no farther than two feet from the fireplace. This irritated Severus immensely, who had been gravely disappointed to be able to hear only one side of Marian's conversations, even when someone else's head had popped up in her fireplace. But he wasn't sure exactly what the visitor could see, so he sneakily wheeled his chair as close as he dared, but took care to stay out of a direct line of sight.

"Harry!" Marian exclaimed at once, feeling a moment of panic when she realized that she had never actually asked Severus if he would speak with him.

The thin, bespectacled boy smiled roguishly at her over their shared secret. "So, read the _Daily Prophet_ lately?" he asked innocently.

"Oh, about Severus' acquittal!" Marian exclaimed, adding somewhat guiltily, "I should have Flooed to thank you a couple of weeks ago. It's wonderful news!"

He looked puzzled for a moment and then his brow cleared. "No, that's old news….Well, it looks as though I've finally managed to get wind of something before Rita Skeeter. But it_ is_ early yet, so the story may not have made the morning addition, although I have doubt that you'll be reading all about it tonight," he rambled gleefully, and she caught a gleam of self-satisfaction in those jungle green eyes.

She could see that he was in a teasing mood, and ordinarily she would have let him have his fun, but not when he potentially possessed information about Severus. "Spit it out, Harry! Surely you're not going to make me wait until this evening for news—not since you're already here," she said winningly, and her frisky tone made Severus scoff quietly. Surely she wasn't putting on her charm for the boy-who-lived…emphasis on '_boy_'.

But Harry grinned broadly and replied, "Well, I've gotten it!"

"Gotten what?" she asked in confusion, growing a little impatient.

"Everything you asked for. One Order of Merlin First Class, and assurance from the Ministry that none of his belongings will be touched for at least a month, in case he still lives and comes to claim them. Also," and here Harry fumbled about for a few moments proclaiming, "his effects."

Marian first reached for the small pouch, and a moment later retrieved Severus' wand. At its touch, she felt the magic course through her, as it had never done with her own wand. She wondered at the phenomenon. Perhaps those of British-make really _were_ superior, as her friends had long claimed. "Harry, this is…I have no words. You've outdone yourself, and for the man that defeated Vol—the Dark Lord, that is really saying something," she said fervently, with gratitude shining in her eyes.

"It wasn't easy to get hold of his things either—especially the wand. I think it would have been simpler to reclaim it from Azkaban than it was to get it out of St. Mungo's. No doubt those blighters intended to sell it…an authentic Death Eater wand from the Second War with Voldemort….By the way, Marian, this may be none of my business, but I noticed that you won't say Voldemort's name. Is it because of Professor Snape? Because it hurts him to hear it?" Harry asked, with a strange, fixed look.

She nodded thoughtlessly, causing his face to fall. "Oh, I thought that, well, you know…after the Malfoys' trials that surely Professor Snape's Dark Mark would have vanished too. I mean…if _theirs_ did," he trailed off, troubled at the paradox.

She leaned forward intently and said leadingly, "Perhaps, Harry, the Dark Mark vanishes at different times on different people, depending on _certain factors_…"

Comprehension dawned, and he chuckled quietly, "Marian, you're a marvel. Even including everything he's been through, he's still the luckiest man in the world to have you on his side."

"I doubt he would agree with you," she said wryly.

Harry rolled his eyes and said fondly, "Fortunately for men, most good women have this crazy idea that we deserve them."

Her voice dropped, and Severus pricked up his ears, yearning for interpretation as she said softly, "Oh, but he does…and so much more. Never doubt it."

The teenager cleared his throat uncomfortably. Undoubtedly it was still difficult for him to imagine his hated teacher and former arch-nemesis in a romantic role. "Anyway," he asked awkwardly, "Did you talk to him about seeing me? What did he say?"

Marian glanced down, ashamed of herself for her omission, but then she looked at Harry and said with quiet conviction, "I think that it would be better if we wait until he has made a full recovery and is able to leave the house. He still has a long way to go before this happens—you saw what he was like at the Shrieking Shack."

He blanched for a moment, as though surprised that someone's recovery could possibly take so long and asked, "Has he been to a hospital?"

She shook her head and replied gravely, "No, he believes that that would do more harm than good. He needs quiet… to recuperate from more than only the snakebites."

Harry nodded sagely and said, "Yes, I guess he's had a few rather tough years….I think I hear Sirius moving around upstairs, so I'd better let you go, before he gets wind of who I'm talking to and commandeers the fireplace….You know how he is. But anyway, let me know if there's anything else I can do to help. Oh, incidentally, you may want to go clear his things out of Hogwarts. If Snape signs and dates a form granting you permission, that ought to do the trick. Can you imagine the look on Professor McGonagall's face when you hand_ that_ over?"

"Thank you, Harry. You've been a good friend to us, and I won't forget it," she beamed, before his face winked out of the fireplace, leaving her alone with Severus once more.

The spy looked as though he were about to explode with exasperation at being left in the dark. "_Well?_" he asked, a bit more sharply than he meant.

She merely strolled towards him, twirling something long and dark between her fingers. "Is that…?" he murmured, in growing excitement.

"Why, yes," she acknowledged with studied nonchalance before handing it to him, feeling another surge of magic as it left her hand for his. Severus turned it over and over, stroking it lovingly and eying it with concentration. Marian felt overcome with joy as she watched the pleasure and relief shining in his face. Unthinkingly, she stroked his back supportively, effectively breaking the unspoken taboo on physical contact that had been in force for the last several days.

He glanced back up at her, and she wordlessly relinquished the small leather pouch. "It's very pretty," she commented, after fingering the suede.

"If you like it, you can have it," he muttered, "It's not mine. Must belong to Potter."

He hesitated for a moment before turning its contents into his upturned palm. The necklace Marian had given him pooled in his hand, and she shuddered at the rust-colored stains that currently disfigured the emperor's portrait. They were obviously Severus' blood. The only other item he held was an ordinary-looking, Muggle bobby pin, of the sort she often wore herself. It must have been found in the pocket of his mangled robes. Severus looked very pleased to see both items, causing Marian to comment.

"That seems an odd thing to carry around with you. Does it have any special powers?" she asked curiously.

For a moment, his coolly-composed countenance faltered, betraying a glimmer of something like nervousness. "In a sense….It…reminded me," he said, not looking at her.

"Of what?" she asked, brow furrowed.

"Do you not recognize it?" he asked, peering at her a little shyly. She shook her head.

"It's yours," he said softly, "I stole it from your hair the night of the Order Christmas party, when you asked me to hold your hair up. I took it on a whim."

He looked ashamed, but Marian was awed. "So long ago?" she asked.

"Yes," he confirmed, tensing.

"And you kept it all this time?" she asked rhetorically.

"Obviously," he responded snidely, trying to recover his equilibrium.

Marian looked up at him and pinned him with her dancing eyes. Every time she tried to be noble, he would do something adorable that would effectively demolish her good intentions. "I love you, Severus. So much," she murmured fervently, inadvertently echoing the words that had caused all the trouble a few nights before.

"Then you meant what you said the other night," he commented, in a thrillingly low voice. He was practically euphoric with relief.

"Of course I did….I wouldn't lie to you. And besides, you already know that I care about you. It's perfectly obvious," she proclaimed matter-of-factly and as boldly as she dared, trying to perform damage control by twisting the meaning of her spontaneous words, and hoping that he would take them to mean simply that she was 'fond of him'—or whatever he liked…anything but the correct interpretation, that she was 'in love' with him. That would never do.

His measured gaze gave nothing away, and in spite of her bravado, she shivered. What might he have seen in her face? Had she betrayed herself?

Although he was a little disappointed by her evasion, Severus was a crafty, tenacious man. He would bide his time, and knew from long practice the value of waiting for the opportune moment. He changed the subject smoothly. "Thank you for running interference for me with Potter. I certainly have no desire to entertain him here at the house, no matter how much I currently owe him….What else did he say?" the spy demanded.

"Well, he said that none of your belongings will be touched for a month, whether you reappear or not, so that gives us a grace period in which to retrieve them," she answered, before smirking and taking a deep breath before uttering the coup de grâce.

"Also…would you like your Order of Merlin, First Class to be delivered by mail, or would you prefer to attend the special award ceremony that will be held in your honor?" she teased, dancing away from him, her pine-green sundress spinning out around her.

"You are joking," he said slowly.

She approached him again and knelt at his side, irreverently propping her elbow on his knee. "Not a chance. It's yours. You've earned it," she whispered.

Marian had the feeling that if Severus had been well enough to spring to his feet and start pacing, he would have. He seemed curiously agitated, and she guessed that this award had come as a far greater surprise to him than she had imagined.

"But it just doesn't make any sense. I did terrible things. I was the Dark Lord's right hand. I murdered Albus Dumbledore….And everyone hated me, even before I tarnished my record with crimes," he said slowly, with his brow furrowed adorably as he tried to make sense of this new development, and of the curious notion that he might not be universally despised after all.

"And yet, you're as much to thank for saving wizardom—and the Muggles, though they don't know it—as Harry Potter himself. I've told you before how rare and wonderful you are, and now others are beginning to see it. Perhaps someday you'll believe it yourself," Marian remarked tenderly, as she stood and prepared to leave the room.

But Severus' nimble wit quickly recovered from its shock and took in all the angles. Marian paused as he unexpectedly spoke up again, with a rather strangled note in his voice, "You say that England has forgiven me, and to a degree I suppose it is true. There will always be those that easily forget the past and believe whatever story currently adorns the pages of a newspaper…and no doubt that accounts for a great many people. But this clemency comes from the top down—from the Minister of Magic. It has been awarded as a harmless concession to Potter's celebrity status. Everyone _does_ believe I'm dead, after all, and it is far less controversial to pardon a guilty corpse than a guilty man.

"But there is no _actual_ evidence that the wizarding world approves of me and believes in my innocence, and no such evidence will appear. Once it becomes common knowledge that I was inconsiderate enough to go on living, we will see what the _vox populi_ has to say about it."

"The Ministry and the _Daily Prophet_ will support you. Harry will support you. The people will believe what they're told and hail you as a hero!" she objected ardently, cheeks flushed with righteous indignation.

"No, my dear. They will shun me, and regard me with the fear and hate to which I've become accustomed. They'll await a 'relapse' with eager anticipation, which I suppose is more than fair. I never expected _any_ sort of positive recognition, and so your efforts (Yes, I'm well aware of who is really responsible for this) on my behalf are most welcome….But I don't expect I'll ever be able to escape my villainous reputation, for even Potter himself, who has intimate knowledge of my memories, doubted me for a moment, asking you whether I still wore the Mark."

"You can hardly blame him for that," she scolded gently, "I warned you that the presence or absence of the Dark Mark would come to be viewed by the wizarding community as irrefutable proof of guilt or innocence. Harry is young and susceptible to the common prejudices. It makes sense that he would have a moment of self-doubt, ignoring a preponderance of evidence for one flashy, physical 'proof'."

"I suppose that's true," he grumbled, "but I want to be rid of the Mark. _Today._ I can't bear it any longer…having to shy away from _his_ name, or to call that monster the 'Dark Lord'. It fills me with horror to hear that title on your lips, as you try to spare me pain. I don't want to be marked as one of his slaves for a single moment longer….It is not decent or fitting for a free man to wear this brand….You _know_ that I'm right."

"You're very weak," she objected, "Your wounds have barely closed over…"

"Surely you don't intend to deny me this," he answered quietly, bringing all his peculiar charisma to bear on her as he fixed her with a glance that somehow managed to be masterful and pleading at the same time.

She laughed softly to herself and murmured drily, "No, I don't, damn you. You're like a lion, at your most dangerous when wounded."

He raised an eyebrow at her characterization, but she continued highhandedly before he had a chance to associate her reference with something about Gryffindors, "I want you in bed when I perform the spell, and I don't want you to fight with me when I try to do diagnostics on you."

"Agreed," he said lazily, as Marian came around behind him and began pushing him towards his bedroom.

"Perhaps you should eat first," she said pausing, "I don't think that the spell will cause you to be sick to your stomach, but you might be too weak to eat anything for a while afterwards."

"Fine," he answered, waving his hand carelessly.

Whenever he was nervous or frightened, he adopted an even cooler, more unconcerned manner than normal. She couldn't help herself then, and slid her arms around his neck, leaning forward and hugging him from behind. Marian gloried in the warmth of his slender body against her neck and chest, and inhaled his clean, delicious smell. She had missed the feel of him so much, had missed their closeness, and the indescribable contentment that came with falling asleep pressed to his side.


	37. Chapter 37

Chapter 37: Hurts That Go Deep

She heard Severus give a gentle sigh and felt one of those dangerous, dizzying, tidal waves of affection wash over her, an occurrence that had become more and more uncontrollable of late. And so she kissed him, softly, on the cheek, letting her lips linger on him. And as her pulse went into overdrive, she kissed him again, this time a little closer to his mouth. She parted her lips eagerly, dragging them over his skin, longing to taste him, but not quite daring. He shivered convulsively. He had reached up and placed his deceptively fragile, long-fingered hands on hers, where they rested over his heart. Marian felt alternately hot and cold, almost feverish. After nuzzling him delicately with her cheek, she carefully pulled away.

"I don't like worrying about you," she murmured, resting one hand lightly on his undamaged shoulder while the other steered the chair.

"What's to worry about? Your spell makes men weak, while giving them pleasure….As a woman, you'll only be doing what comes naturally," he commented shamelessly in that sensuous, educated voice.

His spirits had been remarkably buoyed by her display of a few moments ago, and he was still breathless, even though she hadn't found his lips. But he was almost transfigured with the hope that perhaps she had meant those impassioned words the way he believed she did. Her body language certainly supported them eloquently…but there was still the slim chance that perhaps she had just been cooped up with him too long. Stockholm Syndrome, or something of the sort.

"Chauvinist," she retorted, with a twinge of amusement.

In spite of her remonstrance, he insisted on transferring himself from the wheelchair to his bed, and so she left the room to get him some leftover shrimp stir-fry. When he had finished eating, Marian approached and eyed him dubiously.

"Well, please proceed…if you remember the incantation that is," Severus said snidely, in his lustrous, aristocratic tones that still managed to thrill her, even after hearing them regularly for weeks.

His eyes sparkled and she realized that he had forgotten to be nervous about the magic in the enjoyment he was getting from baiting her, and decided to turn the tables.

"Very well, but you'll never know how many of your wicked schemes have only come off because of that sinfully silky voice of yours," she purred to him, as she removed his shirt (for no real reason except that she wanted to, but she wouldn't admit that fact to herself) and cast diagnostics.

But watching his brilliant eyes grow impossibly dark at her words, she lost the reins of the conversation, and her teasing grew dangerous for them both. "_It's just not right_," she breathed, hardly knowing if she meant his voice or her behavior, and added, "I'm so glad that you recovered it after the injury. You don't know what it does to me."

"And Severus," she whispered in his ear, tickling his sensitive skin with her breath as she bent to expose his left arm, "If this spell does feel as good as I suspect, don't hold back. I want to watch you."

Severus' breath caught at her words, and he tossed his head restlessly, exhibiting his milky throat and moaned, "Oh god, Marian," in a voice hoarse with passion.

She couldn't believe her own wantonness. She had always treated men with distant civility or a sort of hands-off camaraderie. She had never been the sort of girl that wanted to touch them—much less the sort that couldn't keep her hands off, and tempted them with passionate whispers.

But Marian didn't realize that there were consequences when one pushed a man so far, especially one as forceful and sly as Severus Snape. Even _his_ patience had limits, and he could not lie there, watching her as she murmured so seductively. She often didn't wear a bra when she was at home, and Severus had noticed. _Merlin, had he noticed._ She did it innocently, in order to be more comfortable, because she assumed that her chest wasn't large enough to require continuous support. Usually it only became apparent when she moved in certain ways, but with her thin green dress, and her obvious excitement…even a very ill man could only take so much torment and still be a man.

And so, before she realized his intent, his hand shot swiftly out, insistently tugging her towards him, and his lips met hers in a hot, relentless kiss. He reached forward with his injured arm and took possession of her breast, a thing he had never dared to do before. Stunned by his quick thinking and the currents of energy shooting powerfully through her body, Marian's mouth remained closed, but only for a moment more. Suddenly the long fingers that were engaged in expertly fondling her caused her to gasp with pleasure. He swiftly took advantage, penetrating her mouth remorselessly with his tongue.

She melted against him, gasping occasionally around his tongue as his fingers stroked her, wreaking their torturous pleasure. At last, he released her, after squeezing her one last time, although she continued to kiss him greedily for a few moments more, her hand softly cupping his cheek.

Marian reeled back a couple of steps, and Severus propped one arm behind his head and eyed her with a gloating, predatory look.

"Severus, wh-?" she started to ask, as she tried inconspicuously to adjust the clinging fabric of her bodice.

"Consider that my last act as a Death Eater," he purred, in his rich, dexterous voice.

Looking desperately around the room, anywhere but at _him_, Marian tried forcefully to clear her mind. It didn't work, but the haze lifted enough for her to remember the spell. She didn't use her wand like she had with the Malfoys, which made things considerably easier. This, and the fact that the spell was nonverbal and she had performed it previously, proved her saving grace, because the partially clothed spy proved a very distracting sight.

But what almost undid her was the way he pinned her with his eyes as he underwent her spell. After what he had just shared with her, he proved far less guarded than he would normally have been, and allowed his pleasure to be visible to her. And it _was_ a show. Marian had never seen anything as erotic in her life as Severus Snape in the throes of-what was remarkably like-passion. The longer the spell lasted, the more intense was the image. His pale, sinewy body writhed and arced helplessly, glimmering with a sheen of perspiration, and twice a strangled, guttural sound slipped through his clenched teeth. At last, he took a quick, indrawn breath and his body relaxed at once, as though he had gone suddenly boneless. Marian was at his side in an instant, running diagnostic spells. She never noticed that she was badly trembling.

Severus' pulse raced, and he regarded her with over-bright, glazed eyes that somehow made her even more aroused than before. "Are you alright?" she gasped, fear for him mixed with the adrenaline caused by her voyeurism.

"How do you feel?" she tried again, waiting in agony for him to speak.

It took a few moments for him to get his breath, but he finally muttered hoarsely, in wry tones, "Mother of Merlin! If only you had invented this earlier….Had word gotten round about how good it felt to remove the Mark, there soon wouldn't have been any Death Eaters."

With those words, his eyelids drooped and he began to snore lightly. Marian fondly smoothed his damp hair out of his forehead; her earlier amorousness had faded to be replaced by the warm, steady glow of tenderness. When she happened to look down, she noticed that he had fallen asleep with his newly-reclaimed and much-cherished wand clasped tightly in his hand. She left it there.

A few hours passed before he was startled out of sleep by a loud clatter. Ms. Bear suddenly bolted through the door and up into his bed, to peer around the tired spy in trepidation. Marian peeped around the corner a few moments later, with disheveled hair and a sheepish expression. "Oh, I didn't mean to wake you! I was cleaning out the pantry and tripped over Ms. Bear's squeaky squirrel..." she said guiltily, while approaching him nervously.

He waved his hand nonchalantly, intending to let her know that she wasn't bothering him, and was greatly surprised by how sluggish and wooden the movement turned out to be…and how it left him feeling even more tired than before. Marian summoned a glass of fresh water and brought it to his bedside. He struggled to sit up, feeling as though he were forcing his way through quicksand.

"You feel weak, but it will pass," Marian murmured, although she didn't tell him how quickly. Truthfully, she herself didn't know for sure. She hadn't wanted to cast the spell, because she had feared that it might set him back a week or two. Although he seemed a bit shaky right now, he looked otherwise alright, and she began to think that she had overestimated the energy drain caused by the charm.

"How long was I asleep?" he asked thickly, noticing the lengthening shadows. His sharp ears picked up the familiar sound of a pair of great-horned owls, calling back and forth as they woke to begin their evening hunt. It had taken him quite some time to distinguish the faraway hoot from the bark of a fox. Both noises were common in the area, and sounded remarkably similar.

"About twenty-eight hours. It's nearly five o'clock," she said, perching beside him wearing a lightweight, azure gown that had a neckline and straps composed of a delicate weave.

"Did it work?" he forced out, too exhausted to pull up his sleeve and simply check for himself.

She seemed to realize this and acted for him, uncovering and tenderly lifting his forearm into his line of sight. Although silver scars caught the light, running haphazardly across his alabaster expanse of skin, he remained otherwise unblemished. It was as though the Dark Mark had never been there at all.

Severus_ thought_ that he had believed in the efficacy of her spell, but he realized by the shock he felt at the sight of his untarnished arm, that a part of him had harbored an irrational, secret doubt. He still remembered the horrific disappointment he had felt when the Mark had faded rather than disappeared after the Dark Lord had been killed seventeen years before, and again a couple of months ago, when he had heard that the Dark Lord and all of his Horcruxes had been destroyed.

He had given up hope, expecting that the hideous skull would lie dormant, but remain permanently grafted to him as a source of dread and shame. The evidence of his greatest mistake had been imprinted on his body for nearly twenty years, where he had seen it every day, filled with self-loathing at the memory of his eagerness to receive such a 'great honor'.

Severus had brooded over it in the year before Voldemort's return, watching with alarm as the gray outlines of the Mark had gradually darkened. He had known what it portended, but had had no one to comfort him in his growing terror, as it became certain that the Dark Lord would return, and exact a terrible price on the follower that had left him for Dumbledore. Severus had also experienced burning pain whenever he had been summoned, or whenever anyone had used the Dark Lord's name in his presence, which Dumbledore and Potter had done _incessantly_.

Many had been the nights when he had only spared half his concentration for his tasks, while the rest of his mind lingered on his left arm, awaiting the burning that might or might not come….And the phantom summonses, the tingling that he frequently felt or imagined he felt that sometimes heralded a real summons, but not always—that was another thing that had tortured the spy for years, never truly allowing him the ability to relax.

But she had taken it all away, all of his pain and fear. She had researched and found a solution, when he had long ago given up, and she had done it because she cared for him. She had made his 'spot come off', belying the faux-Mad-Eye Moody's cruel words to him during the year of the Tri-Wizard Tournament, words that had cut very deeply, because he had known that everyone else felt the same—that he was untrustworthy and didn't deserve a second chance. _Everyone except for her_.

For an absurd moment, he felt tears well up in his eyes, and he furiously struggled to keep them from spilling over. One small drop leaked out and betrayed him, but instead of growing embarrassed or pretending not to notice, Marian reverently knelt beside him and kissed it away, before gently re-covering his left arm.

"You're free," she whispered, "_Voldemort_ has no more power over you. The Mark is gone for good, and all the Dark Magic was purged along with it."

He nodded shakily, but was too exhausted to deal with all the different emotions coursing through him, and so he closed his eyes. After he settled back down, Marian pulled out a pen and began to write. Hearing the familiar sound of rustling parchment, he postponed sleep and watched her for a while through half-closed lids, wanting to ask what she was doing, but so very, very tired. The thought of the difficulty of forming a sentence was enough to discourage him.

When he awoke again a few hours later and saw that she was still writing, he grew very curious. Whoever her correspondent turned out to be would get a long letter indeed. "What are you writing?" he asked, finding that his voice came easier.

Although he felt languid and limp, he noticed an almost unusual clarity to his thoughts. She put down her pen and rubbed her left hand, which had begun to cramp. "The book I told you I had always intended to write. As I sat here beside you, the ideas began coming so quickly that it was almost as if they were arriving from somewhere outside me, and I was only a medium for them. I had to capture the thoughts while they were still fresh," she admitted self-consciously.

It was a strange thing for a witch or wizard to write something other than a history, biography, or book of spells. In fact, it was nearly unheard of. Many wizards would have scoffed at Marian and told her that she was wasting her time, writing of fantasy worlds and imaginary characters. But a gentle smile slowly spread across Severus' face. "So…you decided not to wait until you married your _perfect_ man to begin writing. Won't he be disappointed?" he teased.

"Only if he's very stupid," Marian retorted, adding, "And I never could abide stupid men….But it's not my fault. When inspiration strikes, you have to take advantage of it, or risk losing it forever."

"I've heard the same thing said about love," he commented casually.

"People will say anything about love," she answered dismissively, before fleeing the room under the guise of preparing dinner.

That night, when Marian climbed into bed beside him, Severus felt uncharacteristically nervous. He had stayed awake for dinner, and done some serious thinking. Oddly, he found himself yet again pondering the story of Percival. After that knight had reached the castle in the wasteland, he had witnessed the grail procession and neglected to ask the fateful question that would have cleared up the mystery and set everything right. He had kept silent and fallen asleep, only to wake the next day alone, finding that his chance had passed. To pay for his mistake, he would wander the earth for many long years to try and seek out what he had lost that day. Severus did not want to be like this knight. _He wanted Marian._ He couldn't let her slip through his fingers through pride or fear or anything else. He would ask the fateful question, and if she said yes, he would have healed himself.

He turned towards her and watched her intently. She seemed even lovelier than usual, wearing a nightgown that skimmed over her curves like quicksilver, with beautiful, simple lines. The silvery-gray color complimented her skin, which seemed luminescent in the moonlit room. Marian played with the puppy, trying to distract herself from the intensity of Severus' stare and the nervous excitement it made her feel.

But the dog eventually wandered off to chew on a toy at the other end of the bed, and Marian no longer had an excuse to avoid looking at Severus. With a smile of satisfaction, she ran her fingers over the uncontaminated skin that had just been cleared of the Dark Mark. Suddenly, the spy deliberately reached towards her, and ever so gently cupped her cheek before drawing her into his arms for a kiss. Incapable of resisting him, she molded against his slender strength and threaded her hand through his hair, responding to his thorough, drugging kisses. He pulled back a bit to speak, and she clung to him for a moment before giving him space. With his elegant hand warm on her shoulder, and a gaze filled with yearning and considerable force of will, he urged, _"Marry me,"_ in the most compelling tone he possessed.

Unable to believe her ears, Marian sat up sharply, and exclaimed, "You _cannot_ be serious."

With slight difficulty, as he still felt very weak from the spell, he also sat up, and prepared to argue his case. Her words had hurt him, but he wanted her too badly, and his courage had been bolstered by her warm kisses.

He replied with surprising candor, "Of course I am. When have I ever been otherwise? I intend to have you, so the only way for you to stay true to your beliefs and preserve your virtue is to marry me."

"That's not the _only_ way for me to 'preserve my virtue'," she returned proudly, although a blush was beginning to heat her cheeks.

"You know perfectly well that it is. Unless you send me away, it is inevitable. I will take you…and you will let me," he murmured practically, in his silky, naturally low voice.

"You're taking a lot for granted," Marian murmured, although her denial was weak. She had the unsettling sensation that came from realizing exactly how well he knew her.

"On the contrary. You admit that you love me…and don't try to keep me at bay with platitudes about how there are many kinds of love, and that this…_thing_ between us is friendship. That's nonsense and you know it….I want to protect you and keep your respect; I do not intend to debauch you," the dark-haired invalid maintained.

"That's rather old-fashioned terminology," Marian objected, stalling for time to think.

But she seemed to have hit a nerve, and Severus said stiffly, "I am using the terms that accompany the corresponding ideals."

"Are you calling my beliefs antiquated?" she demanded extraneously, sliding out of the bed and prowling restlessly around the room.

Severus narrowed his eyes, but the emotionally-charged conversation was swiftly sapping his strength, and he sagged slightly against his pillows once more. "Don't blow smoke. I'm not and you know it. Based on what you know about me, do you think that I'm the sort of man that despises tradition and sneers at honor?" he demanded in the logical way he had of speaking that made him so persuasive.

Instead of replying to his question, which she was fairly certain was rhetorical, Marian turned towards him, crossing her arms and relaying matter-of-factly, "You have reverse Florence Nightingale Syndrome."

"I _beg_ your pardon," he replied in a deadly voice, "Are you calling me mentally incompetent?"

Trying to explain her reasoning, she said quickly, "You are…vulnerable. Lots of patients project romantic feelings onto their caregivers. But once you're out and about, you'll feel quite differently."

Severus was not wrong to feel disrespected. Although Marian genuinely worried about taking advantage of him, she severely underestimated his resilience and self-awareness. By implying that he didn't _really_ know his own mind, she grossly insulted the calculating wizard. He had often done the same thing to her; in spite of considerable evidence that what she felt for him was love, he had spent years rationalizing away the possibility—often in ways that discredited her. Now the tables were turned, and he found it a bitter pill to take. Unfortunately, he still didn't perceive that her objections stemmed from the same root as his own—the insecurity that accompanies feelings of unworthiness.

"I suppose I rather expected you to refuse my suit," he commented bitterly, "I'm not so blind as to be unaware of the many strikes against me. I'm ugly, bad-tempered, disreputable, unpopular, unemployed, and emotionally-damaged. There are all these reasons and more, but I suppose I flattered myself when I thought it unlikely that you would deny me on account of _psychosis_."

"Severus, stop! You're taking my words out of context. Ordinarily, I would never doubt your decision, but you are…ill…and marriage isn't something to be taken lightly," she replied, reeling a bit from his storm of scorching words.

"Is that so?" he asked ironically, adding with resentful passion, "Are you telling me that our history together means nothing? If you'll recall, I have not always known you as my nurse. Or are you projecting this…this _syndrome_ onto me because it has become impossible for you to remember me before the attack—to remember me as a man? And now you see me as an invalid, a child, incapable of self-knowledge and rational thinking?"

"Merlin, no! Severus, how can you even_ think_ that? But you've been through a lot—physically…emotionally. I want to give you time to recover," she began stubbornly, determined to adhere to her plan of not taking advantage of his weakness to trap him into marriage, even though marrying him was her deepest, most secret hope.

But Severus cut her off, asking hotly, "Or is trivializing my desires just your way of rebuffing me? Because if you don't feel the same, you could simply tell me, you know. I promise not to have a relapse," he finished drily.

"I'm not worried about that!" she protested, but added baldly, "You have only just escaped one captivity. And yet, how eagerly you seek out another."

"Is that what you feel marriage is? Captivity?" he asked in disbelief.

"No," she hedged, before explaining, "But it can be, if entered into with the wrong person, or for the wrong reasons. It is _permanent_, after all. I would never have you make a commitment to me based only on gratitude and…physical attraction."

"You said once that you value a straight game. Well, so do I-more than you can imagine given my…history. I told you that I want you. If you don't want me, just _say it_. Tell the truth!" Severus declared vehemently.

"I _am_ telling the truth! I'm not rebuffing you! I just want…I want not to take advantage of you. You're ill. You're at my mercy and feeling grateful, and I'm the only woman you've seen in who knows how long. When you go back into the wizarding world, everybody is going to know how heroic you are. Women will want you—the best and most beautiful women. They will finally see what I've _always_ seen in you—your utter brilliance, sexiness, incredible bravery. Your remarkable voice will be discussed in the papers, along with your elegant hands and other delightful attributes. You cut a very romantic figure—the Death Eater-turned-spy. You'll be portrayed as a bad boy, and plenty of women will want to 'tame' you….You have lacked opportunity to shop around in the past years, and I don't want to tie you to me and deny you freedom of choice," Marian explained passionately, the truth of her words shining out at him from her eyes.

"And that," he said quietly, significantly, "is why I only want you. If I become famous-or _more_ _infamous_ rather-both of which I sincerely hope _don't_ happen, women will be attracted to my fifteen minutes of fame. Not to me. You were the only one that saw the best in me, who thought I was notable and worth preserving. _The only one._ And to me, your beauty is incomparable. I have no desire for other women. I was resigned to living a celibate life until I met you.

"My_ syndrome_ can't be rapid onset, because I've been in love with you for _years_—almost since we first met. I am thirty-seven years old-hardly a child. I know my own mind and desires. Surprising as it may seem, I am not desperate. I'm also not the sort of person to 'shop' for a lover, scouring the countryside for some _bargain woman_. I would much prefer to be alone than with someone I didn't love with my entire soul. At least then there would always be a hope—however slim-of finding someone extraordinary. Because if you believe, as I do, that marriage is forever, then settling is a terrible crime against oneself. I think you belong to this school of thought as well. You are the only one that has ever really cared for me. And I want you. Even if you can only love me a little—Merlin help me, I'll still want you," he confessed hoarsely, looking up at the ceiling, and anywhere but at her.

She shivered at his impassioned speech. Severus had cast a spell with his silky tone and influential words, and Marian's resolve had begun to crumble. She turned away from him, trying to gain control of herself, but his pain-fueled confession at the end succeeded in doing what arguments could not, and won her over completely.

In his weakness, Severus sagged against the pillows. When she turned her back on him, suddenly all the guilt, the stress, shame, despair and self-loathing that he had successfully kept at bay, suddenly pounced, completely overwhelming him, like a pack of ravenous wolves that had been waiting in the shadows, just beyond a fading circle of fire.

The terrible drain caused by the spell, his deep, partially-healed wounds, and what he perceived as Marian's rejection triggered a nervous breakdown that had been a long time coming. To her utter shock, Severus began shaking with choking, uncontrollable sobs. She could see the look of dawning horror on his face when he realized that his body was out of his control. He couldn't stop the tears or spasms.

Even after suffering debilitating injuries, Severus had maintained his usual cool, capable mien that tended to camouflage the fact that he was far from a well man. He frequently managed to fool even Marian into overestimating him. When he began behaving in such an uncharacteristic manner, she actually felt frightened.

The dismayed witch gave an exclamation and sprang towards her patient, perching beside him in the bed and murmuring, "Severus! No…please, Severus. Don't be upset! I love you! I'll marry you. I love you…."

The words tumbled out of her mouth over and over in an affectionate mantra, and she clung to him as he trembled violently. He had initially sought to escape her, but now clasped her to him feverishly. Marian could see blood smeared on the front of her gray nightdress, and realized that somehow he had managed to reopen a puncture with his terrible paroxysms. Filled with consternation and panic for him, she found it difficult to detect whether her words were getting through, and so she kissed his cheek, trying assiduously to soothe him. She was stunned when he responded to her, kissing her desperately, with kisses that weren't quite kisses—they were too needy, too wild, too hard. He often missed her lips entirely, but pressed his mouth to every part of her he could reach, her cheeks, nose, the corners of her lips. She held him and returned the press of his lips as best she could, tasting tears mingled with saliva.

She didn't know how long they were like this, not so much embracing as grappling. His distress lent him strength, though he was exhausted, and Marian could feel his heart beating with abnormal rapidity. She suspected that he also had the chills, judging from his odd tremors, but it seemed like there was little she could do but ride out the storm.

It didn't last much longer, for he suddenly collapsed, completely enervated. Severus was white as a ghost. She followed him down onto the bed, remaining in his arms, although his grip had slackened considerably. One glance revealed to her that he was still conscious and slowly coming back to himself. Making a swift decision, Marian cast a spell, sending him instantly to sleep.

Knowing how much he prided himself on his self-control, she realized that the repercussions of this temporary collapse were likely to be severe. Marian meditatively stroked his sweaty black hair out of his face and tried to decide what to do. It had been a terrifying spectacle to witness, but she had secretly felt that something like this had been a long time coming. He had been under a great deal of pressure for far too many years.

The witch sighed as she took in the trickles of blood still seeping from a hole in his chest that had previously closed over. She cursed herself for not replacing his shirt and dressings after removing the Dark Mark, but at least this way she had been alerted to the damage, and could recast a few spells on him. After she cleaned the blood off them both as best she could, Marian noticed how terribly washed-out he looked. His lips were practically gray. She decided suddenly that it didn't matter that it had not yet been fifty-six days, the recommended minimum, since the last time she had given blood. Severus needed a transfusion. He looked awful, and she instinctively knew that it would do him a world of good.

Propping herself up beside him, she set it in motion, awed yet again by the way his skin seemed to grow more vivid as the new blood filled his veins. When her strength began to leave her, she annulled the spell and drank a replenisher, slipping into the sheets beside him, entwining their fingers. Once Ms. Bear realized that all had gone quiet, and that emotions no longer ran high, she ventured out from under the bed and slunk up her puppy stairs, making a nest on the pillow and forgetting the stressful last half hour. But the dark-haired girl was unable to forget, tired though she was, and spent the next several hours anxiously watching the appearance of her lover. His face was so rigid and still that Marian felt she was looking at a death-mask, rather than Severus' usual expressive countenance.


	38. Chapter 38

Chapter 38: Regaining Lost Ground…And Then Some

Marian's fears were realized when she woke after a night troubled by dark dreams. The room was golden with early afternoon sun and she found herself sprawled out in the bed alone. Rising cautiously on silent feet, she opened one of the French doors and crept outside, to see Severus's spare, hawk-like profile highlighted by the mellow light as he gazed disinterestedly in the direction of a nearby ridge. He currently occupied the recliner and had abandoned his wheelchair, letting it roll away to be stopped by the railing.

Knowing that he was going to be difficult, but unsure to what degree, Marian moved into his line of sight and leaned against the guardrail across from him with the slow, deliberate movements that one employs when threading a path through a minefield.

She noticed with satisfaction that he seemed physically better. His devilish dark eyes had a healthy sheen, and his thin, chiseled lips exhibited the barest hint of rose—not that they had ever had much color to begin with. But if he was alright physically, his mental state was another story entirely. The lips she had been admiring were pursed in displeasure, and it was obvious that he was about to speak. Even though she had had a hard night and was excruciatingly worried about him, she also felt a warmth growing inside her. _He had told her that he loved her._ She had longed for confirmation for so long, and if he said that he had felt that way for a long time, then it was the truth. There _was_ the matter of that hairpin he had taken, after all.

And so she opened up the conversation with a non sequitur. "I heard the craziest rumor about you," Marian said nonchalantly, with a hint of teasing in her voice.

He slowly cocked his proud head at her, and even though the same sour expression remained, his eyes widened slightly in incredulity at her irrelevant words. When a few moments passed, and he didn't give her the benefit of a reply, Marian added, "Someone told me that you could fly…without a broom."

He finally spoke, as though the words were being dragged out of him, "Yes…that's true enough."

She regarded him with eyes sparkling with admiration and exclaimed, "But how? Voldemort is the only other capable of such a thing. People assumed that he taught you, but that doesn't really sound plausible, based on the sort of person he was…a taker, not a giver. And I'm sure he already found you far too powerful by half."

Smiling ironically at her transparent attempts to distract him from the previous night, he nevertheless played along, as he didn't wish to revisit it either. If he could pretend for just a few moments more that his humiliating, degrading mental breakdown had never occurred, proving him forever unworthy of her love, then he most certainly would—although he realized that he must address it soon.

It had also not escaped his notice that she had slept several hours later than normal, and that he had awoken feeling unnaturally refreshed. It had not taken him long to figure out that she had given him some of her blood, and although he was far from pleased about it, hardly felt he was in a position to object that he hadn't needed it after his display of abject weakness. He mentally flinched at the memory.

"You're correct. The Dar—Voldemort taught me spells when I first joined his movement, knowing perfectly well that knowledge was one of the main reasons I had signed on. He prefers clever people, as you discovered for yourself. During the early days of his rise to power, he occasionally indulged my insatiable thirst for information, although that quickly came to a halt when I began to work for Dumbledore….Then, it was the other way around. When not given express instructions, I would create spells and potions for him of my own devising, things that would give him very little advantage in the war, but were unique and impressive enough to feed his arrogance and taste for grandiosity.

"He kept me especially busy after I fled Hogwarts….I invented the flying spell, _Aetherium Orior_, quite a simple charm. In my research I detected evidence that I was hardly the first to come up with such a spell. No doubt the broom industry managed to keep previous inventors quiet," he finished, surprised at himself for saying so much. Severus had not thought that he was in a talkative mood.

Smiling radiantly at him, she purred, "You're terribly clever, you know."

But the compliment, though sincere, was ill-timed. In his funk of self-disgust, he distrusted her motives, thinking that she intended to pacify him like a child and boost his self-esteem, or some such rubbish.

And so, in tense, clipped speech, the spy declared coldly, "There is no need to come at me obliquely, Marian. You may be frank. In spite of my…display last night, I need not be coddled….What you're trying to do is painfully obvious, but I don't need you to draw my attention to my few assets in order to take my mind off my…instability."

"Last night, I meant what I said-," she began earnestly, but he quickly cut her off, with a flash of pain in his eyes.

"_Don't_, Marian! I was not so far gone that I didn't hear what you whispered to me…so many times. It was very generous of you to try to appease me in my…distress, but I will not hold those words against you. I have no doubt that you would stand by them, but I've lost all right to ask _anything_ of you. In any case, my psychotic break effectively sabotaged all my previous arguments. You were right not to take me seriously before….In any case, let us say nothing more on the subject, as I very much wish I could forget it," he muttered reticently.

There was something very restrained about his words, as though he tasted each one before daring to let it escape his lips. "I wasn't being _generous_," she started.

He fixed her with a warning look that made her decide that it would be futile to tell him how much she really had meant what she'd said. So she merely muttered, "This isn't over, Severus."

Marian gave him a little space that day, and found him unusually uncommunicative. He seemed miles away, as he had been that strange day Marian had asked if he wished to go to the hospital. She hardly knew what to do with him in this state. It made sense to her, of course. Believing that he had made a fool of himself with an excess of emotion, the taciturn wizard was even more withdrawn than normal. But just because she understood didn't mean that she enjoyed seeing him this way…or intended to let this state of affairs continue.

A couple of days had passed with him ignoring her and going about his business in a detached, disinterested manner. His self-loathing hung in the air between them, and she was starting to feel a little suffocated by it. Events came to a head in the evening as they sat together on the front porch, both staring moodily off the overlook towards the sun setting over the mountains. She had been snatching looks at him and said finally, "You know, this coldness doesn't suit you."

"I don't know what you mean," he replied icily, although when he turned towards her, she could see a welcome spark of anger in his eyes. It was _about time_ that he showed some emotion.

"I mean," she articulated slowly, "that you're _not_ a cold fish, so I wish you'd quit acting like one."

"But my_ dear_," he sneered, "that's _exactly_ what I am."

"Sure," Marian answered with a snort, "Because that's exactly what you were like in the Archives at St. Mungo's, exactly what you were like when I visited you in Hogwarts, what you were like before I removed your Dark Mark….You may be aloof, but you _smolder. _As I recall, even Molly Weasley was on to you. I remember, one night at her house a few weeks after my first Order meeting, she said that she 'didn't remember ever meeting a more passionate man than Severus Snape'. And with seven children, I would think she knew a thing or two about passion."

As the last pink and mango rays drifted behind the distant peaks and the porch grew progressively darker, it was difficult to tell that Severus' cheeks had grown slightly flushed. "She didn't _really_ say that," he answered acerbically, but there was a note in his voice that indicated that he wanted her to elaborate.

Instead of gratifying his curiosity, she got down to business. With steady green eyes sending a calculating glance his way, Marian replied in low tones, "She did. But here's the thing, Severus. I'm not surprised by what happened the other night."

He stiffened, but didn't stop her when she began to clarify her position, "It was inevitable really, considering that you _are_, in fact, _human_….Think about it, Severus. No man ever had to juggle more responsibilities, or be a better actor. You had to be a Death Eater, Voldemort's spy and advisor, Dumbledore's spy, a Hogwarts professor and Dumbledore's all-purpose servant. Your responsibilities were crushing and I know of only a few of them, but those were still more than enough to push any sane man over the edge.

"You were forced to attend Death Eater meetings, Order meetings, staff meetings, private audiences with Voldemort AND Dumbledore, run errands for Voldemort AND Dumbledore, teach classes, grade, supervise detentions, attend the great hall for all three meals a day, patrol the corridors, oversee Hogsmeade weekends and quidditch matches, brew potions for the infirmary, brew potions for St. Mungo's, collect and purchase supplies and ingredients, oversee the children in your house, create lesson plans, clean the labs, storerooms, and classroom, settle inter-house squabbles, create potions and spells for Dumbledore and the Dark Lord, and millions of other time-consuming tasks like teaching Potter Occlumency and brewing Wolfsbane for Lupin."

She sucked in a deep breath after her rush of words and continued bracingly, "Did you ever even sleep? Did you ever have a moment to spare for your own needs and interests? To bear up under so much pressure, so much frustration...Oh Severus, you don't see how exquisite you are. You should have always been cherished and respected. You're so able, so lovable...I don't think anyone else could have done what you did, working so hard at so many things, while operating as a double agent. You displayed such nerve, skill, determination…

"I've seen you at your lowest, when you had been practically ripped apart, and again the other night when those horror-filled years finally caught up with your subconscious….I have always been in awe of you, and now that I've seen what a toll these terrible events have taken on you, I adore you-I mean _admire_ you, even more than I did before."

"Stop," he broke in, "I have never had many things I could boast about or rely on, except my mind and self-control-"

"Even though that's_ far_ from true, I don't think you have anything to worry about. You still have preternatural amounts of both. What happened last night is unlikely to recur. Your legendary self-control indirectly _caused_ your crash. By choosing to repress your fear and hurt, you were able to carry on as usual in spite of the terrible things you had seen, felt…done," his lover argued strenuously.

"That's enough. I don't require psychoanalysis," he said acidly, his mind automatically rejecting all her attempts at comfort.

"But that's exactly my point! You _don't_ need it. Because you're perfectly fine. Your subconscious mind felt that you were finally in a situation where it was safe for you to purge some of that trauma….Severus, you're not _broken_. You're not defective-"

"That's quite enough, Marian," he growled, but he tried to mitigate his harsh words by reaching over to stroke her back gently, noticing with surprise that her heart was hammering violently from their skirmish. She must have gotten herself quite worked up over it. Curious.

He seemed more himself after this episode, relieved that she was still inclined to spar with him, rather than handling him with kid gloves like he truly was a crazy ex-Death Eater. A highly logical man, he appreciated that she was trying to reason with him, and he also secretly treasured her support...more than he felt capable of expressing. Even though he still felt a substantial amount of self-hatred, it had almost dropped back down to his 'normal' levels.

The next month passed rapidly. They would watch a movie about once a week, and Severus spent a lot of time reading to himself. Even though she had caught him at this dozens of times, he would always hide the book when he spied her and she would pretend that she hadn't noticed what he was up to. The truth was that they both greatly enjoyed sharing a story together. Eventually, they forgot to conceal this fact from one other, and then Severus frequently took the opportunity to read to her, remembering her comment about how seductive she found his voice.

He was able to make short walks around the house, and seldom used his wheelchair, if he could help it. Unsurprisingly, he often pushed himself too hard, perhaps in an effort to atone for his 'nervous breakdown'. Whenever Marian wanted to overrule him, she would cock her head at the puppy and ask thoughtfully, "Ms. Bear, what do you think?"

Ms. Bear's responses varied, from the sycophantic 'Arf!' to a non-committal growl that sounded like 'hmmm', to a loud (and admittedly shrill) enthusiastic bark. Then Marian would translate Ms. Bear's responses, sometimes getting quite a lot out of a simple 'arf'. Whenever Severus would point that out, she would say that one couldn't forget to interpret the motions of the ears and the tail, because they sometimes added quite a bit to a statement. For instance, they changed "Severus is wrong," to "Severus is wrong; besides, I think he looks a bit pale and should go sit in his chair and read for a while, and maybe have a bowl of vegetable soup." This infuriated and amused him to no end, and then when Marian would smirk at him and say, "Well, _democracy rules_," he found it secretly endearing—although he often did the opposite. Ms. Bear needed to know her place, after all.

There was no more talk of marriage, and the two existed in a sort of peaceful stasis, although both were aware that this could not last. An undeniable tension pervaded the air between them, and Marian knew that it was incumbent on her to do something about it, as Severus was unlikely to broach the matter again, after what he undoubtedly remembered as his disgusting display of weakness on the night he had proposed.

After some time passed, it became imperative that Marian go to Hogwarts to recover his belongings, as the Ministry would declare him dead at the end of the month, at which time Severus' wards would be broken and all of his property up for grabs, vulnerable to the depredations of thieves and government auctions. Marian finally made her way to the Floo, where she intended to Apparate to the Hogwarts gates. Severus had written her no fewer than eight pages of instructions with a Dicto-Quill.

Apparently, his property was scattered about the headmaster's office, its adjoining bed and bath, his old quarters in the dungeons, his old office, two separate laboratories and two potions storerooms. He also had items hidden in various secret places around the school. Since he couldn't go himself, the invalid had had to be very detailed when it came to which things belonged to him, and which stayed at the school. Also, many of his ingredients had specific storage and transport instructions. It was maddening, and took Marian three full days to clear his things out of Hogwarts, all the while dodging questions from the staff. Minerva had been particularly relentless; casting several spells to ensure the authenticity of the permission slip Severus had filled out before she had been willing to allow Marian access to the former headmaster's territory.

Even with a bottomless bag, the myriad trips through the Floo to unload and ask Severus additional questions made the move quite an undertaking. The constant interrogations by the new headmistress made the ordeal even more exhausting, as Severus' one-woman-moving-crew knew only so many polite variations of 'I'm sorry, but I'm not permitted to say'. The old Scotswoman's persistence caused Marian to speculate whether she might not have been the one to erect the sad little monument to Severus on the school grounds.

As frustrating as these interruptions were, Marian was actually grateful to her, because not even once did Aurors or reporters arrive to give her the third degree, and Minerva would have been well within her rights to have Marian carted down to the Ministry to give information on the missing wizard. He had disappeared under rather dubious circumstances, and it did look a mite suspicious for a close-mouthed foreign witch suddenly to appear on the scene and begin absconding with his things.

Luckily, Minerva was willing to give the former Order member a little leeway, because, as secretive as Marian tried to be, it was inevitable that the tenacious, concerned old lady would succeed in wringing some information out of her. She found out about the one month granted by the Ministry, and that Severus was alive, but in no condition to come himself. Once she understood that Harry Potter was involved in the secret, she became considerably more tractable. Also, she could sense that this girl cared greatly for Severus, judging by the precision she took when packing his things, even little objects that had no real value. Minerva McGonagall had learned a thing or two about reading people in her ninety-plus years of life.

The American had originally set aside three empty rooms in her house for the pale wizard's things: one space for his office materials, a second for lab supplies and potions, and the bedroom he currently occuptied for his clothing and personal items. But by day two, she added another room once she realized how many books the man actually owned.

She could tell that he was practically squirming with guilt over the effort she was putting into moving him out. He knew that he wasn't able to help, and he had absolutely no intention of ever returning to Hogwarts. Even though it made him uncomfortable for the woman he loved to spend days slaving away like a pack-mule over his things, Severus reluctantly agreed with her that it was necessary. He had no desire to lose so many valuable books and ingredients, all the things he had amassed over the years. And he knew that the month granted by the Ministry really would be only a month. After that, curious and covetous alike would descend on his belongings, making off with them to keep or to sell as 'Death Eater memorabilia'. It was an enormous comfort to Severus when every single thing he had kept at Hogwarts was safe with him in their secret-kept home (for so he had begun to think of it).

"What about your bank accounts? Should we send a letter to Gringott's to make sure your holdings are safe?" Marian inquired, once the enormous task of the move was out of the way.

Severus' posture suddenly grew very rigid, and she saw a trace of bitterness in his molten black eyes as he replied ironically, "My _holdings_? Preserving them is hardly worth the expenditure of renting an owl to deliver the notice."

"Surely you can't be serious!" she exclaimed in consternation, "I mean, you've taught for seventeen, eighteen years at the most prestigious institution in the country. I've heard of Hogwarts professors retiring and buying enormous villas and living lavish lifestyles. That other Potions professor-Slughorn-isn't doing too badly, now that he's not in hiding...And you're so much more creative and industrious than other men. Besides the articles you've written, the potions patents you must have, the payments for potions that you supplied to the hospital...How is it that you have been left with nothing? Did you have to give your money to Voldemort? ...Severus, I'm sorry. I got carried away. You don't need to answer. It's none of my business."

He shot her a look that made it perfectly clear that she was being silly...and perhaps that what he did with his money _was_ her business after all, or at least, might be soon. Sighing, he replied, "You forget the reason for my presence at Hogwarts. I wasn't there for the same reason as the other professors. As Dumbledore's operative, or indentured servant, or ward-or whatever it is that I was to him-I owed my position there to his pleasure and not to my own talents. I didn't receive a salary like the _legitimate_ professors. He gave me room and board, ingredients, and a small allowance for clothing and incidentals. Hogwarts-ergo Dumbledore-received the rights to all my work. I have never seen so much as a sickle in royalties for my spells, potions, or publications. And everything I did for St. Mungo's was pro bono.

"I never cared about money, and had more important things to argue about with Dumbledore over the years...Honestly, I never expected to live long enough for it to matter and was just vindictive enough not to want any of my fair-weather friends to profit from my death...And so I've amassed laughably few savings for a man approaching forty. I have survived this war with my life and my wand, but very little else," he confided in a torrent.

She clenched her fists and spat, "Sometimes I still hate him so much! I know it's wrong of me, but you're so precious...so giving and loyal and talented...and he used you shamelessly. How could he have denied you the credit and rewards that your accomplishments deserved? Did he need to take _that_ from you too? You already lived a thankless, unfulfilling, comfortless life spent catering to his whims. And yet, he felt the need to take still more. He didn't even have the decency to let you be acknowledged for your successes, or to give you the freedom to make investments for the future with the money you had rightfully earned...I want to forgive him, but I also want to follow him down to hell and give him the beating he never got on earth."

He smiled wanly at her defense, although the seriousness and intensity of his dark eyes seemed to say more, but as always, they proved as difficult to read as a subterranean river. He sighed and countered, "It's nothing, Marian. I have the skills and knowledge required to make money, so you need never fear that I'll go hungry...I just didn't want you to think that I had nothing because I had squandered it all in gamblers' dens or brothels...The whole 'Death Eater stigma' is rather bad enough, wouldn't you agree?"

Marian's lips twitched in amusement as she listened to Severus Snape primly defend himself against charges of gaming and whoring. But instead of replying immediately, she held his eyes as she slowly reached for his left arm and gently rolled up his sleeve, revealing his pale, undefiled skin to the light of day. And then she murmured warmly, "Death Eater? I don't see one here...I _do_, however, see the hero that has achieved the highest honor in British wizardom, the rare and coveted Order of Merlin, First Class."

He looked delightfully flustered for a moment, although he seemed as though he might protest her words, but desisted with an obliging huff when she raised an eyebrow in playful challenge. They spent the next half hour in mostly silent companionship. Marian flickered about the room, hanging Severus' robes in the closet and finding places for his other clothes in the dresser and tall chest of drawers. He made himself useful by unwrapping his underthings and accessories, laying them out on the bed for her to store. But even though he kept busy, his eyes constantly returned to the woman he loved. It gave him pleasure to watch her. Her movements seemed very graceful to him. Internally grimacing at himself for the thousanth time, he acknowledged that he did, indeed, have it bad.

He forgot even to _pretend_ to work when she bent over to find a place on the floor of the closet for his dragonhide boots. But the spy was too cagey to be caught ogling her, and Marian had no idea where his eyes had been when she finally straightened and asked out of the blue, "What about your things at Spinner's End?"

He cocked his head in thought before responding, "I think that the wards there will keep out interlopers for a while. And unless the house is sold, which will take some time, as it is still private property, it is unlikely to be ransacked….Besides, I kept very few valuable things there…and I've hardly seen you in days."

Feeling terribly warmed by his words, she even let him spend a little time working on the potions lab he was setting up—although she made him sit while he unpacked and magically outfitted the space. To make sure that he paced himself, she accompanied him into the room and followed whatever instructions he ventured to give. In the space of a few hours, Marian doubled her knowledge of potions.

She had asked him a few questions when they began working, and once he saw that she was genuinely interested in his answers, he unconsciously slipped back into professor mode. It didn't take much for Severus to warm to the subject and relate the properties of the different ingredients as they uncovered them. He discussed the ways they interacted and gave her an overview of basic brewing. This new knowledge delighted the American, who had attended Muggle schools for most of her youth, missing the years when most students learned potions. It was barely taught in America, and only children with personal tutors would receive a grounding in the subject remotely comparable to that of a Hogwarts student.

That afternoon, she gave him his first massage, which probably wasn't the best idea, as far as keeping the status quo was concerned, but Marian thought it would help ease a great deal of his stiffness and discomfort. Besides, healers did it to patients in the hospital all the time, she argued to herself, suppressing the little voice inside her that said _yes, but those healers aren't in love with their patients_.

She transfigured a table for him to lie upon, which he regarded dubiously, but allowed her to position him gently. Marian performed valiantly for a while, concentrating on working the fragrant healing salve into his skin and kneading the knots with her clever fingers, feeling the play of his muscles as he reflexively tensed and relaxed. But soon enough, she began to focus on him rather than her objective, and that was when things went south.

With only a towel draped over his slim hips, Marian was able to enjoy the sight of his slender, sinewy lines and the feel of his scarred-and yet somehow still lovely-skin. His shoulders were broad; his torso well-sculpted and lean; his legs long and athletic. As if his body wasn't enough to distract her from her mission of mercy, Severus' nearly-inaudible sighs and groans were making her crazy. He was generally so silent and intense that she found it very erotic whenever he let go a little.

He had been almost unnaturally tense when she had begun, but as she had painstakingly worked out the stiffness, he had relaxed, and closed his eyes in ecstasy. Her touches gradually changed, once she had labored over him for quite a while and thoroughly eased his muscles, which had ached and bothered him for years—and especially after the snake attack. But Marian finally stopped kneading and began exploring him, gently tracing the curve of his spine dangerously low, making him shiver. She caressed him as a lover, with fingers lingering on his skin, mapping his body, absorbing the feel of him.

Severus had approached this massage with skepticism at first, and had grown even tenser at the slight discomfort produced each time she worked a particularly hard knot. But he had gradually realized that this discomfort would be swiftly followed by a delicious relief and sleepy sense of well-being.

Once Marian started trailing her fingers over him, exploring the contours of his body, she very quickly regained his complete attention, and he felt nothing but pleasure. She had a fascination with his ears and neck, finding them especially erotic, which worked out well, because his were especially sensitive. He practically purred, and became speedily aware that he was not, in fact, as incapacitated as he had hitherto believed.

"Do you like this?" she whispered to the aroused wizard, stroking the side of his throat with her fingertips, caressing him possessively, rapturously, before placing a lingering kiss on his shivering shoulder blade.

"Too much," he groaned hoarsely, as her fervent strokes along his salve-slicked skin conjured an almost unbearable pleasure.

But he was in no condition, physically or socially, to take her as he longed to do, and so instead of flipping over and grabbing her, he stilled, causing Marian to quit tormenting him and murmur apologetically in his ear, "I've gone too far, haven't I?"

"If you keep this up for much longer,_ I'll_ go too far," he growled in answer.

"Oh!" she replied startled. Search as he might, the wizard could detect only intrigue and a lively curiosity in her tone—no regret whatsoever. She would surely be the end of him.


	39. Chapter 39

Author's Note: I am so sorry for the delay in posting. I will never abandon a story, and planned to update _weeks_ ago, but life got in the way. Also, I'm finding that it's a lot less time-consuming to edit and post back-material than to write something new, edit and post. I hope that a few people have stayed with me. I appreciate you guys and will try not to take so much time about the next chapter.

Chapter 39: Promises

Severus' wounds no longer looked catastrophic. Now the punctures were just masses of ugly, pink, half-healed skin. The magical salves had helped him to heal without growing too much scar tissue. The clever wizard had taken to spending a bit of each day in his potions lab, which he had outfitted rather well, considering that he had been unable to shop and that it was basically a spare bedroom. To Marian's secret pleasure, he had grown quite at home in her house. Once his lab was operational, he had systematically sorted through her medicine cabinets, pulling out potions and eying them with disdain. She also lacked many that he felt she should have, and so he commissioned himself to brew them.

After lunch, he busied himself in his laboratory, and Marian took inventory of the pantry and found that they lacked far too many essential ingredients. They had enough food to live on for quite some time, but she wanted to serve nothing but the tastiest viands for a while, to tempt Severus' appetite. Although he had improved considerably, he looked far more frail and thin than he had a year ago. Marian supposed that the only reason he had been reasonably healthy before was because he had been required to eat three meals a day in the great hall. Severus lived on ideas, caring little for his body. He needed someone to handle the cooking and to make nourishment a priority; otherwise, he would probably forget to eat altogether. Left to his own devices, he would be content to subsist on bread and water. But she wanted pleasure to have a place in his life now, and she wanted to provide it.

Slipping softly into his lab, she stood by the door and watched him decant a cobalt-colored liquid, being careful not to startle him. But she needn't have worried; although the man had a preternatural intensity and focus, he was about as easy to sneak up on as a gut-shot panther in heavy brush. Severus had learned from bitter experience never to be caught off-guard.

He glanced up and acknowledged her with a slight softening of his eyes, which had been narrowed in concentration, black volcanic-glass spear-points. He grew stronger and more powerful every day, pacing slowly about the house, but with his familiar sleek grace. As much as Marian deeply loved nurturing him, it pleased her tremendously to see him coming into his own again. He wasn't a tame animal, but a man of action, and his lengthy forced bed-rest had chafed his wild, independent spirit.

He didn't quite know where he stood when it came to Marian. The sexual tension was thick between them, and he had a certain vague idea that he would prove himself worthy of her eventually, in the nebulous, distant future. But for now, he had disgraced himself, and looked on his unrequited longing as a sort of punishment for his lapse in self-control. Severus had been completely serious when he had told Marian that if he remained with her much longer that he would not be able to resist taking her. And even though he still felt chronically weak and achy, he was exercising tremendous force of will not to do just that.

Most people wouldn't understand the acute and exquisite nature of his struggle. Generally, it is not considered a difficult feat for a man to refrain from having sex with a particular woman. But for Severus, she was _the_ woman, the only one that had really tempted him as a man. He had longed for Lily Evans in his youth, but she had never encouraged him, and his cravings had faded and died. Until Marian, no one else had ever drawn him in. He had sublimated his desires so successfully, been so perfectly pure for the past thirty-seven years, that he hardly knew what to make of the discovery that he _did,_ indeed, have passions, and that they were rather more intense than he had believed they could be. Few men had lived a busier life than Severus Snape, and fewer still could boast of his focus and self-control. He was a scholar after the pattern of Peter Abelard, the brilliant philosopher, coolly celibate until he met his Heloise.

Severus and Marian saw a bit less of each other than before because of the suppressed longing each felt for the other. Frustration hung thickly in the air, and Marian knew that it wasn't a good idea to continue sleeping with him, but she never quite got around to telling him. The separation never came, because Ms. Bear always opportunely perched herself on Severus' couch, just as the two humans began getting ready to say goodnight. Marian approached his bed each evening more shyly than the one before, in order to "collect her puppy," and he always stretched out his hand and folded back the blankets on her side in a tacit invitation.

They were so keyed up these days that they didn't dare fall asleep in each other's arms. Even fingers stroking a palm might ignite a wildfire that would be difficult to put out. But sometimes when he thought she slept, Marian could feel him gently touch her face or her hair. In the morning, the two often found themselves entwined together, which had led to more than a few perilous moments. One day they woke simultaneously, their eyes locking for an eternal, searing moment. Seeing his own longing clearly reflected in her eyes, he had groaned and begun kissing her neck with abandon. She instantly melted into his body, clutching his nightshirt with one hand and clinging to his messy dark locks with the other. She hissed with pleasure, one leg sliding reflexively upward to curl around him, caressing his hard thigh.

Marian didn't _mean_ to encourage him. She truly wanted to wait for her wedding night, but there was just _something_ about him. He overpowered her senses. Many people had thought her cold, and perhaps she was, but it was as though she had spent her whole life storing up all of her passion, locking it away and keeping it for _this_ man. The cool, watchful spy possessed the only key; and the intensity of her feelings for him—the trust, desire, and affection—swept her much farther along than she intended to travel.

And so she met his advances with artless eagerness, allowing him to slip her gown off one shoulder and reveal more soft skin to his burning caresses. It was with a muffled curse that he finally wrenched himself out of her velvety arms and headed to the lavatory. Marian lay limply where he had left her, and when the throbbing and surging in her body died down, reflected on how she had clung to him, how it had been almost impossible for her to let him go.

She laughed quietly to herself, at her own hypocrisy. Marian had always possessed self-control around men. She had never lost the keen edge of reason in any of her dealings with them, and had, in her most secret soul, looked down on the women that _hadn't_ been able to control themselves—women that had professed to believe like her, but had allowed their scruples to be overcome easily by some man. But now that she finally knew what all the fuss was about, she was considerably more understanding.

What a terrible thing, she thought suddenly with a shudder, to succumb to an unworthy man. To give him your body and then be tossed aside…or even worse-to marry him before discovering his lack of quality. To choke everyday on the imprudent vow to 'respect and cherish' him. But there would be no terrible surprises with Severus. He had revealed his character and proven his worth time and again, causing the wise young witch to recognize his uniqueness. He had the loyalty of a Lancelot, the mind of a Ulysses, the willpower of a St. Paul, the spirit of a Caesar, and a soul that was…beautiful, and perhaps a little tarnished, but uniquely his own, and infinitely precious to her.

It was obvious to both that this state of affairs could not continue indefinitely, and Marian wanted to speak up, and tell him that she wanted to bind herself to him as soon as possible. But in spite of all his arguments, and his obvious desire for her, she just couldn't believe that someone as extraordinary as the spy could ever choose someone like her. She couldn't fathom what he saw in her, and it made her assume that he had never met any fascinating women before, who weren't married Death Eaters. But the moment he did-and he _would_-then he would truly begin to feel the _bonds_ of matrimony. And she didn't want that for him. He deserved so much more after what he had suffered.

Since she had fallen in love with Severus, she had frequently mocked herself with the story of Octavia. She had read about how Octavius Caesar had tried to wean Mark Antony from Cleopatra by giving him his sister, Octavia, in marriage. Octavia was widely celebrated for her virtue, wisdom and beauty. She had become devoted to Antony and had borne his children, mediated between him and her brother, and even rounded up money and soldiers for him. Her husband had admired her quality, even as he cast her, his lawfully-wedded wife, aside without regret to go lay his fortunes at the feet of the temptress, Cleopatra. Marian knew perfectly well that some women were endlessly fascinating, but that most…weren't. She considered herself to be among the latter. She was no _femme fatale_, but a clever, rather standoffish, hopelessly bookish woman of average looks. Marian possessed none of the charisma that would keep a man devoted to her and invulnerable to the wiles of other women.

Of course, she could seduce a man for a night with the right words and outfit, but what triumph was there in that? Any woman could do the same. To inspire desire over a life-time in someone that had learned everything about her—who had uncovered all her secrets and her faults-was another matter entirely. Severus was honorable, and if he gave his word to stay with her, then he would. But she needed him to _want_ to be with her—not only now, but ten, twenty years down the road. In spite of her misgivings, Marian knew very well that she would take what Severus was offering. She would have him. She _must_ have him. Her course was set, whether it ended in tragedy or bliss.

But at her best, Marian had far more Octavia in her than Cleopatra. She was practical and homey—reclusive even. How could she meet all his needs? She was…drab, and he had a flair for the dramatic. Severus was exciting and dangerous. He was a great man, and didn't all great men desire great women? Women like Cleopatra, who, even if they were cruel, were at least perpetually interesting. Marian, on the other hand, would never think to bathe in milk and red wine, or to dissolve pearls into a goblet and use them to toast her lover. Sighing in dejection, she could only conclude that she simply lacked flair.

She wondered if one could learn to be fascinating or if one must be born that way. She knew that many courtesans had historically undergone some training, but who could she find to teach her those mysterious arts? Marian didn't _personally_ know any extraordinary women, but realized that if Severus ever revealed himself and gained celebrity status that they would be coming out of the wood-work.

There _was_ Narcissa Malfoy, of course. But even though the lady retained an almost unearthly beauty, she didn't seem to possess the level of daring and intrigue and enchantment that Marian thought would excite the spy. _Now if only Bellatrix were alive_….Marian smirked, thinking of how a trip to Azkaban to ask the incarcerated Death Eater advice on men was likely to go.

Following her musings on Cleopatra, and women of her ilk (i.e. Bellatrix), Marian remembered the famous contest between three Greek goddesses (Hera, Athena, and Aphrodite) over who would be declared the most beautiful and desirable of all women. Marian reasoned that she could play the part of a Hera—could be a loyal, devoted wife, and keeper of hearth and home. She had plenty of Athena in her as well—the clever companion, versatile, with the 'mind of a man'. Yes, she could take on those roles. She understood those women and identified with them. _But neither of them had won the golden apple_.

In real life, as in myth, an Aphrodite could always be found to sweep in and claim the prize every time. Aphrodite the fascinating, the ravishing, the magnificent lover that drove men mad with longing for her. No, Marian thought with despair, she certainly possessed none of _her_. And then, hating herself for her ordinariness, she rose from the bed and donned a robe, thinking that a walk beside the river would clear her head and help her decide on a course of self-improvement. Being near water usually clarified her thoughts and helped her hone her plans. She had come up with many of her best schemes in the shower, and while swimming laps in a pool.

But forty-five minutes later, when Ms. Bear finally stopped chasing squirrels and evinced a desire to return to the house, Marian was still feeling tremendously sorry for herself. She watched a small brown bird fly across the path and reflected that she herself wasn't like a sparrowhawk, but rather like one of these female cardinals, plain and dull compared to the bright, crimson males. Kicking a pebble with her bare foot and wincing when she missed and stubbed her toe against the hard earth, Marian finally decided to head back, with no clear strategy in mind.

After their aborted _encounter_ that morning, Severus had headed purposefully for his lab, to burn off surplus energy in the only way he had available—by working. He had left Marian to her own devices for the day, and it hadn't escaped him that she had been unusually restless, prowling about the house doing odd jobs. He wondered fleetingly if she missed him, but she didn't enter the lab, and so he soon immersed himself in his secret project, which he had been working on alongside the trivial household brewing.

Eventually, when she could think of nothing better to do, the witch ended up taking inventory in the pantry. After she compiled the list of missing groceries, she felt an unexpected lightening of her heart when she contemplated visiting the store. This sensation surprised Marian, and she realized that perhaps she wasn't immune to cabin-fever after all. Although, she suspected that it wasn't _that_ as much as her thwarted sexual desire. She was finding it no easy thing to be cooped up with the man of her dreams and unable to act on her love, even if she _was_ refraining for pure motives. But now was not the time to think about all the things she wanted to do to him, and how many times she wanted to do them….Filing these stimulating thoughts away for later, she squared her shoulders and stepped into Severus' 'lab'.

"Are you almost finished in here?" she asked casually.

Thinking that she had something specific in mind for the two of them to do, he turned towards her expectantly and replied, "Yes, as soon as I label and clean up. Why do you ask?"

"Well, I need to go to the store," Marian answered, slightly taken aback by his hopeful attitude.

Sensing that he was to be left behind, Severus commented, "I _see_," in a slightly more cutting tone.

Marian felt a little off-balance at his irritability and began to justify herself, "I was going through the pantry, and we really do need food. All of the snacks are gone, and we're even out of some of the staples, like rice and wine…"

She trailed off uncertainly when his eyes narrowed. "Then why did you ask what _I_ would be doing? It can hardly matter, since you're not going to be around anyway," he replied in a quelling voice, moving away from her to remove his dragonhide gloves and place them on the counter.

"Well, you could come along, I suppose," she said dubiously, but he huffed irritably in answer, dismissing her half-hearted invitation with as much disdain as he could muster.

Marian was getting better at reading him, and observed that he had seemed the picture of tranquility before she had disrupted him, and so she concluded that her words were responsible for his caustic mood. Although he was only treating her to his 'public manner', appearing cool and aloof, Marian intuited that he was beginning to sulk in earnest, disappointed at being abandoned. This was true, but she couldn't know that he was suffering as much from thwarted sexual desire as she was, and that it was making him edgier than usual. She cautiously approached the tall wizard, who was currently ignoring her, slipping behind him and wrapping her arms around his frail figure, cradling him against her body. In spite of himself, he leaned into her and gave a shuddering sigh.

"It hadn't occurred to me to ask before, but only because I couldn't imagine that you'd want to go. I just thought I would check in with you and let you know where I'd be, in case you wondered….And also," she reached up and gently pushed his hair to the side. Marian then stood on her tiptoes, dragging her breasts up his sinewy back as she reached up to place a delicate kiss on the back of his left ear.

He tensed, and she slid tortuously down his body before continuing, more breathlessly than before, "I asked whether you were at a stopping point because I don't want to leave the house while you're working in the lab. I know that it's irrational because you're so good at what you do, but the thought of leaving you all alone with volatile potions and ingredients in your weakened state really frightens me. If you passed out, or slipped, or—or anything, and I wasn't there for you…I couldn't handle it. Severus, I really couldn't, so please don't be angry."

"How could I be?" he whispered.

Squeezing him softly, she asked, "Is there anything you'd specifically like from the store?"

"Surprise me," he answered in clipped tones, before adding softly, "Wear a portkey."

After a pause in which she savored his protectiveness, Marian answered, "Alright."

In a rush of emotion, she added, "I'll be quick. If you're not busy later, I'd just like to be with you. We can do whatever you like…."

_"Anything?"_ he asked suggestively.

"_Well_, anything within reason," Marian answered primly, smoothing one of her hands down his chest slowly and deliberately.

"_Ah_, but I'm not a reasonable man," he answered in soft, alluring tones.

"In that case, now I _really_ don't want you in here alone making potions," Marian answered laughingly, as she ran her hands all over his torso, emboldened by the fact that she was pressed to his back, and he was unable to see her face.

"What _do_ you want me doing then? A wizard has to occupy his time somehow," Severus continued in his cultured voice, laced with innuendo, his fingers lightly riding hers as she traced his body.

She stilled suddenly. "Severus, I-" she began, before swallowing hard and continuing, trying to keep up their light banter although her thoughts had taken a serious turn, "Let me think about it and let you know tonight….You're good at so many things, after all…."

After another few moments of holding him and gently rocking against him, softly clasping one of his cool hands, Marian reluctantly released his hard, slim body and moved towards the exit. "By the way, while I'm gone, will you collect the paper and mail? All you need to do is toss in some Floo powder and Accio it," Marian directed, more to give him something to do than because she couldn't manage it herself.

He saw through her in an instant and grumbled, "What am I, your house husband?"

Marian looked up with a grin at his comment, rejoining with, "Well, since you _are_, love, you can start by feeding Ms. Bear while I'm gone."

He flushed for a moment before muttering darkly, "I don't know why you bother to put food on the floor for that blasted hound. The fat creature already eats three square meals a day out of whatever we're having."

Almost out the door, she spun on her heel and said, "Ms. Bear is _not_ fat! She is within six ounces of her target weight, I'll have you know. You just say that because she's so fluffy!"

"Unless her hairs are lead filaments, the dog is fat," he deadpanned.

Marian left in a huff, but he didn't miss the twinkle in her eye belying her irritation. She enjoyed sparring with him like this, loved his acerbic wit, and watching the healthy glow gradually creep back into his cheeks, which had been hollow and pale for the long length of the war.

Marian would have preferred to drive, since she planned to do her shopping at a Muggle grocery and to buy quite a bit, but she decided to Apparate, in order to return to Severus more quickly. It was the first time she had left him alone, aside from her necessary excursions to Hogwarts; and even though he was far better than he had been when she had found his crumpled, half-eaten body in that cell in Azkaban, he still hadn't recovered even half of his original strength. She couldn't help but fear for him, although she tried not to show it.

He often went into his lab, and she tried never to interrupt him there, not wanting to risk startling him, causing him to miscalculate and injure himself or spoil a potion. But Marian peeked in at him periodically, although he often didn't realize it. Occasionally she found herself in the uncomfortable position of being forced to step in and ask him to take a break from whatever potion he happened to be working on. He had a tendency to work obsessively and to ignore his body's warnings.

Severus didn't respond well to attempts to control him. He was so incredibly independent that Marian quickly learned that the straightforward approach didn't work particularly well. She had much more success if she lured him out of his lab by asking for his expertise on something else. She often called him forth by saying things like, "Severus, there's a crack in the wall. Will you come and look at it? I don't know which spell works best to mend sheetrock." or "Severus, there's a tick on Ms. Bear. It's really disgusting and I'm afraid of it! Will you come get it off?"

Of course, a few minutes later he would materialize from his lab, ready to tackle whatever small challenge she had set for him, and then she would find it easy work to entice him into bed, after showering him with gratitude and affection. She often spotted a knowing glimmer in his eye and suspected, with a flutter of excitement, that he might, _possibly_, be on to her. But the spy never really seemed to mind her clumsy attempts at manipulation. Sometimes, if his work was in a particularly critical stage, he would put her off, but the generous-hearted wizard did this rarely.

She returned from the store after about an hour. Marian Apparated into the kitchen and found Severus sitting nonchalantly at the table, drinking a cup of coffee and making precise scrawls in a battered notebook. Her heart swelled within her when she saw him there. He would deny it if she commented, but she knew that he had been waiting for her. And so she placed her bag on the counter without unpacking it and eyed him with warmth. He made a couple more notations before lifting his head with exaggerated unconcern, his penetrating gaze taking in her Muggle regalia—slim, dark-colored jeans and green shirt, topped with a supple, dark brown, lambskin jacket. She approached him with delight, her boots clicking faintly on the stone floor. Marian slipped her arms around the spy and gently kissed his wasted cheek.

Fortunately, no fire erupted at this touch. His narrow escape from death had been etched into her soul and she often had inexplicable, irresistible impulses to hold him. Severus was surprisingly tolerant, never saying anything when she would suddenly approach him, wrapping her arms around him and clinging to his tall, be-robed form. He was very intuitive, gently holding her for as long as she needed, at which time she would pull away and act as though nothing had happened, as though she wasn't still shell-shocked at the thought of almost losing him.

She stroked his lean arm through the wool that he continued to wear. Even though he never complained, she knew that he usually felt cold. The moment Marian had realized this, she had turned off the air-conditioning, keeping the windows open and using fans to waft the warm summer air through the house. It was obvious from his sallow cheeks that he was still anemic. She would have to work on that. Perhaps tonight she would cook steak out on the grill. That would give him a little of the iron that he desperately needed.

Severus sneakily wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into his lap. Surprised and amused, Marian exclaimed, "Severus, stop it! I'm too heavy for you."

But instead of releasing her, he tightened his iron grip. His lip curled and he answered, in his most put-upon voice, "And yet, I will try my best to endure."

"I'm serious, Severus," she murmured with a self-conscious blush, glancing sideways at him through her lashes.

The wizard snorted with exasperation and replied, "You? _Heavy_? With _Ms. Bear_ around, eating all your food? …Not a chance."

His lover didn't answer, but huffed softly and gingerly leaned against his reassuring warmth, her feet swinging back and forth above the ground. She twined an arm about his neck for stability, and to be closer to him. Inhaling his comforting, alluring scent, Marian began contentedly twirling his silky hair around her forefinger.

What is that stone you're wearing?" he asked, changing tacks in his sudden interest at the sparkling pendant she wore, reaching down to lift it to his eyes, his fingers brushing her breastbone in the process, making her shiver.

Set in a round silver setting with a Greek key design, the scintillating blue and green flecks seemed like cresting waves or small iridescent scales. "I've never seen anything like it," he mused, pulling it closer to his eyes, causing her to lean in towards him and to tilt her head backwards, baring her delicate throat to his perusal. He noticed that other colors were present as well. The pendant looked like a gem-grade opal at first appearance, but possessed a kaleidoscopic loveliness, the like of which he had never seen.

"It's Roman glass," she acknowledged, and when he merely quirked a brow in question, she continued, "It is a fragment of glass that used to be a piece of an ancient Roman vase or vessel, but was buried in the soil in the holy land for a couple thousand years, exposed to all sorts of minerals and oxidized, developing a patina of shimmering colors….Do you like it?" she asked, growing rather shy at his continued scrutiny.

Instead of answering her query, he demanded, somewhat irrelevantly, "Who gave it to you?"

Marian released his unkempt tress and lovingly traced his frown lines with her finger. "No one. I bought it for myself," she admitted.

"In that case, I like it very much. It's radiant," he conceded gruffly, carefully lowering the jewel and placing it reverently back against her body, where it glittered and gleamed just above her cleavage, lying atop the thin fabric of her sage green shirt.

That evening she grilled steaks on the balcony and Severus kept her company. The two drank wine and had a delightful time together. They often shared interesting spells and discussed theories. He had wasted no time in getting her to reveal everything she knew about portkeys, and they often deliberated over the feasibility of making a one with several built-in destinations, which would eliminate a need to Floo on a regular basis. Her former obsession had begun to fascinate him, and he had been writing up all sorts of notes on the subject. Although he wouldn't admit it, he wanted Marian to be able to portkey back and forth across the Atlantic. He didn't like her having to be so dependent on floo travel, which could be thwarted by something as simple as someone standing in front of a fireplace, blocking it with their body.

Severus was a very capable, reliable man. After all, he had spent years being the person everyone depended on to solve their problems. He had once gone to extreme pains to keep Potter safe, and found himself even more protective now that he finally had someone to love. Because stunted and taciturn though he was, he _did_ love her. Extravagantly. Whole-heartedly. And he would use all his magic, all his knowledge and strength to guard her.

They dined outside, enjoying the gentle rustling of the wind in the leaves and the way all of the greens gradually merged with the shadows, creating a mural of variegated blacks and grays. The witch used a spell to shield the balcony from the elements and to keep insects away from their tender, piping-hot steaks, heaps of asparagus spears, and buttery potatoes erupting from their golden-brown sheaths. As the meal wound to a close, she could see that familiar questioning look in Severus' eyes as he regarded her. It was something that he was unaware he did. He didn't know that his expression asked the question he didn't dare voice a second time. But in intimate moments, his usually shuttered black eyes displayed such tenderness, such yearning, and at those times they practically _demanded_ an answer from her.

Her heart churned inside her, and she abruptly rose and prepared to carry her plate to the kitchen. She reached for his, but he gently forestalled her, following her into the house on silent feet, carrying the dish and his empty goblet. Marian didn't know what had gotten into her tonight. She didn't remember when she had last been so powerfully affected by him. She wished with all her soul that they were married, and that she could simply take his hand and lead him into the bedroom, where she would peel off his robes and love him properly…or improperly, as the case may be.

Severus had not forgotten that she had told him that he could choose the activity of the evening. She had imagined that they would read or watch a movie, and Marian was pleased but secretly shocked when he told her matter-of-factly that he wanted to watch her make a mosaic. She didn't know whether her Roman glass pendant was to blame for this whim of his, or if it was something he had desired for a while. She couldn't have known that he had found her stash of mosaic glass tiles in one of his earlier wheelchair reconnaissance missions.

After placing several Cushioning Charms and making sure that he had a seat that would support his back, Marian sat on the floor in the middle of the living room, taking Severus' hand and carefully easing him down beside her, to his amusement and aggravation. She produced a rectangular wooden plaque and began unpacking the equipment, and soon the two were surrounded by bowls overflowing with opaque and transparent tiles in every color of the rainbow. Severus eyed the blank board musingly, and Marian watched his strong features as he contemplated the materials. She finally ventured to say, "Well, what do you think we should make?"

"Now that it comes to it, I'm not really sure," he replied, adding after a moment, "I've never had the leisure for such things before, and I'm not the sort of man given to arts and crafts anyway."

She could tell that his discomfort continued to grow with his words. He practically spat _'arts and crafts'_. Marian smiled at him and tried to put him at ease, saying, "Well, we have some leisure time now, and we might as well spend it creating something beautiful. It's just for us—we don't have to tell anyone else about it. Come on, Severus. Don't back out. Now you've gotten me in the mood!"

"Well, in that case…" the spy relented, but he still didn't know what answer to give her, "I don't know what we should create. This glass is so exquisite. It deserves a worthy theme."

"Does one spring to mind?" she asked him with dancing eyes, arms wrapped tightly around her legs, which were clad in black flannel leggings. Irrationally, Marian had hesitated to wear pajamas and casual, Muggle clothing around Severus. After all, he had only ever seen her dressed up. He might not find her attractive if she wasn't. She knew that she was being silly, and yet…she doubted. One night, he had caught her transfiguring her nightgown to make it more beautiful and ornate, and in bemusement had asked what she was doing. With a blush, she had confessed her secret to him. Although the knowledge that she took pains to make herself desirable to him had given him a secret thrill, he had only eyed her incredulously before declaring simply, "To me, your appeal doesn't change with your wardrobe."

Easy for _him_ to say, Marian thought. He always looked pristine and mysterious and elegantly desirable wearing the same thing, or nearly the same thing, every day. But nothing about Severus ever grew stale, and, for the thousandth time, she thanked the Lord for Lily Evans' superficiality and lack of interest in him.

When the spy sat in silent thought for several minutes, Marian finally said, "Well, I had planned to make the Tree of Life at some point. We could do that, if you like."

He nodded, and she pulled out two small paintbrushes and a bottle of black lacquer. Squirting a medium-sized blob on a paper plate, she dipped in her brush and began painting the plank of wood, careful to coat the outside edges. Severus quickly followed suit, and Marian found that he was much more exacting than she, using precise, even strokes that all went in the same direction. With chagrin, she noted that her side looked messy and haphazard by comparison. She gave him a gentle, teasing nudge with her shoulder, and a small smirk touched his lips in answer as he continued with his exact strokes.

"Now _why_ are we doing this?" he asked, leaning close to the board in concentration.

"You don't use grout with Byzantine glass, and so, in some places, a fraction of the board might show between the cracks. Also, we can draw our design directly onto the wood with this piece of chalk and simply fill it in with the tiles. The paint only takes a few minutes to dry," she replied matter-of-factly.

"Ah," he acknowledged, as he finished, placing his brush down on the plate with a flourish.

Struck by a sudden thought, she pushed a piece of chalk towards him and said, "_You_ draw it."

"Certainly not. I'm not at all skilled in this area," he began.

But Marian gazed at him pleadingly for a moment before she contended, "Neither am I! I'm awful, in fact. Please, you paint so much better than me. I'm sure you draw better too."

"The only reason your painting leaves something to be desired is because you're impatient," Severus enlightened her.

"Guilty," she said placidly, even as she coaxingly pressed a piece of chalk towards him.

Marian stood before he could object again, picking up both paintbrushes on her way up and saying, "I'm going to wash these out and get us a drink. What's your poison?"

He made a noncommittal sound, absorbed in crafting a design, and so she decided to go ahead and get him what she was having, which is what the wizard had wanted all along. For a moment, she opened the refrigerator door and speculatively eyed a couple of bottles of a local pale ale, but then decided against switching beverages, and opened a second bottle of the California cabernet. Marian carried it all back into the living room, catching Severus gazing intently at the board with a piece of chalk poised hesitantly above it. Noticing her return, he put it down with alacrity and dusted off his hands before reaching up to take the glasses from her.

She thought that he looked compelling and every inch an expert, even perched on the ground. His robes spread around him, spilling off the edge of the rug and onto the shining wood floor like spilled ink, and his tall, angular form bent over the table, his dark eyes focused thoughtfully on his design. From the side, it was difficult to see anything but his aquiline nose, as his ebony hair had fallen forward, lightly brushing his high cheekbones.

"Marian, should we go for accuracy and use twelve different-colored tiles for the twelve kinds of fruit, or did you want to make the tree all gold and silver, or gold and white? I'm not sure how we're going to do such small details without cutting the tiles too small and—"

As, she bent to set down the bottle and retrieve coasters, she affectionately kissed his temple.

"What was that for?" he asked in puzzlement, turning to gaze at her with dark, lustrous eyes, which held something soft and pleasant in their depths.

Caught off-guard by his question, Marian didn't respond with the serious, uncompromising truth, which was that she was so happy, so privileged to be with him. Instead, she challenged coyly, "Do I need a reason?"

"Never," he responded, in the adorable way he had of speaking when he was a little flustered and breathless, but catching hold of his customary irony.

She saw that he had already drawn a fair amount of a tree, and had taken the size and shape of the tiles into consideration in his design. Marian marveled that it was really very good-very exact, very _Severus_—and especially that it had been so swiftly executed. With a murmur of approval, she slipped to the floor beside him and showed him how to use the tile nippers, and where to place the wheel in order to get a clean break. The dexterous wizard instantly absorbed her instruction, and in a few moments had mastered the delicate art. But he still seemed a little self-conscious, and once he looked up at her and said, with a slight edge to his voice, "It is proving quite the hobby of yours to tend to fragile, breakable things."

Marian didn't quite know what to say. She had realized how difficult it was for him to accept the fact that she found him worthy of so much of her care and energy. Even the doubt-prone wizard had eventually been unable to escape the conclusion that she truly cared for him, but he was unable to come up with a really satisfying reason for this. He took it for granted that he didn't deserve her, and in his more insecure moments, let himself suspect that maybe she had unconventional tastes and had a _healing thing_ or a _saving thing_...Perhaps she had initially seen something weak in him and it had prompted her to take him under her wing.

She eyed her capricious lover intently. He still busied himself conscientiously clipping tiles, and didn't look at her. Over time, it had grown easier for her to reassure him in his fits of doubt, once she learned to intercept his train of thought immediately, before it completely ran off the track. She had grasped the fact that he often didn't say what he truly meant, and that she must always read between the lines. But to be fair to the temperamental wizard, as his confidence in her love grew, so did his tendency to be more direct when it came to revealing his fears.

There were only so many ways one could reassure Severus Snape without making him grow even more defensive, and so she tried to deflect his moment of self-doubt by relating matter-of-factly, "I like lovely, interesting things that are created to last. And glass is the only _fragile_ medium I work with...although even these tiles are not nearly as brittle as you think."

Severus said nothing more, but his posture seemed to relax slightly. It took little time for them to find a rhythm. Severus would cut the tiles and both would arrange them on the board. He would occasionally make additional cuts, and then Marian would glue the pieces into place in the proper order. She scooted around the table so they would have more room in which to work, and they kept at it for quite a while, discussing colors and strategy.

Eventually, they traded tasks, and she found, to her chagrin, that Severus' tiles appeared much more exact and well-shaped than her own. "I don't understand how you're already better at this than me," she muttered with a self-deprecating grin.

"It's all in your mind," he said in a deadpan voice, although she saw the corner of his lip twitch and knew that he was pleased with himself.

But she insisted they switch back to their original tasks, because the tile-cutting and laying was the fun part, and she wanted Severus to have that. Also, she thought she could already tell a difference in his pieces and hers. The tree was coming along wonderfully. They had used a silvery gold for the trunk and branches, and had made the leaves white, with twelve kinds of fruit, hanging from the limbs in varying shapes and colors. Once again, she found herself marveling at his clever, delicate touch. He even _glued_ precisely and efficiently. She was willing to bet that he didn't have a trace of the epoxy on his fingers, while she had…more than a little on hers. She felt hopelessly clumsy beside him. Suddenly, she reached out and caught his empty hand and began trailing her fingers over it, brows knit in concentration as she searched for the tell-tale roughness of dried resin. "What on earth are you doing?" he demanded in amusement, as she explored his fingers and wrist with curiosity in her eyes.

"Nothing," she said airily, quickly dropping his skilled hand.

"Marian, are you checking for_ glue_?" he exclaimed, eyes glimmering.

"I just wanted to see whether you needed a wet rag. It appears that I…might," she returned with dignity.

He smirked at her from across the table, and she returned his knowing look with one of sly humor. After that, they began frequently glancing up to meet each other's eyes, and grinning as they looked away. There was so much joy and fun in just being together.

The co-conspirators finally bent back to their task, and during a pause, in which she handed him one of his tiles to make an adjustment to it, Severus mentioned nonchalantly, "I got a letter today."

She paused, hand stretched towards him and asked, "Lucius Malfoy?"

"No, the Ministry," he said, imbuing the words with a world of meaning.

"But at the Ministry, they don't even know you're alive!" she exclaimed, looking to him for clarification.

"_They_ think I'm dead, but apparently an owl somewhere is on to me. But _presumed dead_ or not, they still sent me an invitation. I've been asked to attend the Order of Merlin award ceremony and celebration," he said this last in the form of a question, eying her intently to gauge her reaction to his news.

Marian sat cross-legged on the rug and eyed him musingly, "Will you go?"

"Do you think I should?" he countered.

"I want you to do whatever is most likely to make you happy," she said earnestly.

He eyed her appreciatively for a moment and said leadingly, "And so, if I decide to attend…?"

"Then I will be there on your arm…unless you have someone else in mind, that is," Marian said, glancing at him teasingly.

He smirked and rejoined, "Well, If my date cancels, I"ll be sure to remember you."

"You're an awful man, Professor Snape," she snickered, leaning forward on her heels to slap his arm lightly.

His lips turned up in the shadow of a smile, before he returned to seriousness. "Do you think I'll be doing the right thing by going?" he asked, more to himself than to her.

"Well, it just depends on your strategy, and what you hope to gain. It's not likely to ruin you if you pick the wrong option….You need never bother with the Ministry again, if you don't want to," she began.

"But I would be undoing all your hard work if I ignored the Ministry and decided to live outside the law," he contended in a flippant, rather sarcastic voice.

Displeased, she shook her head adamantly and whispered, "Stop it, Severus. You know I don't care about any of that. All that matters is _you_ and whether or not you want a future as part of the British wizarding community."

He sighed and abandoned his antagonistic stance at once. Striving to explain himself, Severus said, "Marian, it's not that I want to be a part of it…necessarily. After all, I cannot boast of one friend in all of England….But I _don't_ want to have to hide my face wherever I go. I'm an Englishman and a wizard—it's my heritage. You've made it possible for me to interact with that world again. And there are certain things a man can't do when he's considered dead…like sell houses…and enter into...other contracts."_ Like marriage contracts._

She propped her elbow on the polished coffee table and leaned her cheek into her hand, surveying him with her greenish, calculating gaze. He met her eyes steadily and said, "I have no wish to live as a fugitive…or to subject you to that kind of life."

Color flooded her cheeks, but he continued before she could speak, "I'm so _tired_ of role-playing. I know that I could invent a new identity, but I'm heartily sick of all the lies and intrigue. It's so exhausting. Besides, although I've never liked my name, and it is hopelessly blighted now...it's my own."

"You're right. Of course you are," she murmured, "But you can go privately to the Ministry and get yourself _recalled to life_, so there's no need to subject yourself to those bureaucrats and reporters at the ceremony if it's distasteful to you. On the other hand, you deserve to be there, and they ought to honor you. It will be a bold way to make your debut in the wizarding world, if that's what you're after. "

"I suppose I could go to the ceremony, hold my head up, and then leave before the festivities begin. That might be tolerable. No one will expect me to stay for them, in any case," he said slightly sourly.

She took a sip of her wine, and his eyes followed the motion with appreciation, admiring her pretty lips and the way her head tilted slightly, exposing more of her throat. Severus had been haunted by her beauty, since he had first looked at her properly, and its power over him had only grown stronger with time. He shifted closer almost unconsciously. "Well, if you want to shock them," she proposed, with a note of good-humored teasing in her voice, "You could stay long enough for a dance…with me. In your arms, I'd be the luckiest woman in the room. All the other witches there would know it, and I would be universally resented for monopolizing the sexiest wizard in all of Britain—because there's a zero chance that I'd let someone else cut in."

"However would you bear the burden of all that female envy?" he asked drily.

"I admit that it would be a tough job, but I like a challenge," she said roguishly, and added _sotto voce_, "Besides, I am convinced there would be…compensation."

"Is that so?" he purred in his rich, resonant voice that vibrated pleasantly through her core.

He leaned towards her, and she could sense the tremendous amount of leashed energy. _He would prove a lover indeed._ Marian blushed scarlet, but knew in her heart that it was the truth. Behind his steely intellect and unshakeable self-control prowled a man of fire, a man that would devour her, body and soul, and make her enjoy every second of it.

And so she bent her head, unable to meet the penetrating gaze of her superlative man, and breathed softly, "Yes, that's so."

He swallowed convulsively and placed the tile-nippers down on the table with a soft _click_. She was so beautiful to him, more now than ever. In her comfortable evening attire, unadorned and unmade-up, with her chestnut locks loose and framing her shoulders, spilling over on one side and slightly curling at her temples, she revealed herself to him as she truly was. And there was something very intimate about being here with her and seeing her this way. It was as though she fully trusted him, fully accepted him, and the lonely wizard had longed for this. She was sublime, and he wanted to scoop up her warm, pliant body and carry her to the bed, where he would worship her and ravish her and infect her with his own eternal longing.

He looked away, taking a long moment to rein himself in. "When is this event?" Marian finally asked, more to dispel some of the tension than to quest for actual information.

"May—on the anniversary of the final battle. A year to the day," he murmured, slightly agitated.

"That was the worst day of my life," Marian said starkly, "However bad that awards ceremony turns out to be, it will be less than nothing in comparison with what we've suffered."

"True," he replied in tones that were equally bleak, and, to busy himself, continued working on the mosaic. He was filling in the azure sky between the branches, which still called for adeptly-shaped tesserae.

Marian slid back around the table, and sat very close to him, slightly angled towards his warmth. Her arm sometimes brushed his wool-covered one, and she trembled with the effort it took to fight her sudden need to be held by him. Reminders of _that day_ always had the same effect on her. They made her want to find him and clasp him to her heart and never let him out of her arms.

But she knew that she had to control herself. After all, _he_ never came running to_ her_ to be held, and he had suffered more than she had a thousand times over. "We have quite a bit of time then. It's only September," she commented, in a voice that was a little strained.

He spared her a speculative glance, tinged with amusement, at her obvious attempt to distract him from the adorable way she had just scooted up to him. It never ceased to amaze him that she actually seemed to _like_ being near him.

Severus responded, "If I attend, there will be all manner of conjecture about my Dark Mark, and who you are, and your motive for being with me, and my motive for being with you, and whether I would have been pardoned had the Wizengamot known I was still alive-I believe the answer to that is '_no_', by the way….But if I _don't_ show, the rumors will possibly be even worse. People will say that I was ungrateful, that I didn't really deserve the honor, and should have been prosecuted instead of rewarded. They will declare that I'm a coward for hiding out and not facing them….And they would be right."

"That's not necessarily true," she objected staunchly, "Some truly believe that you're a hero. The others, well, they can and will think whatever they want, but you're not afraid of their judgments—you've always been subjected to them. And if you choose not to go, it will be because you don't give a damn about what they think. And that's not cowardice, love. That's courage."

He didn't appear convinced, and so she tried a little harder to cheer him up, "On the other hand, they won't have much of a ceremony if one of the recipients of their First Class Order doesn't show—which may be a good thing or a bad thing. I rather like Kingsley; and even though the Ministry only hindered us during the war, at least he's trying to get all the players the recognition they deserve."

He scoffed and said, "My absence would hardly phase anyone. According to the _Daily Prophet_, there has been a suspicious rash of Orders of Merlin, First Class, handed out by the Ministry in the wake of the announcement that _I_ would be receiving one. Apparently, now this 'highest award' is being doled out like candy….But since they have effectively debased the coinage, as it were, I wonder what award they're going to give Potter to make him preeminent. They'll probably have to go back in history to come up with honors grand enough for the 'Savior of the Wizarding World', and they'll end up granting him everything from _Spolia Opima_ to _Tribunicia Potestas_. It wouldn't surprise me if his new title was _'Augustus, Principes Viris, Pater Patriae, Imperator, Pontifex Maximus, et Divi Filius_ James Potter'," he finished acidly.

She snorted with laughter, and his eyes gleamed with a shy pleasure that someone finally appreciated his scathing wit.

Desiring to make her laugh again, he continued with feigned testiness, "Or perhaps they will christen this era the '_Pax_ Potter'," and pausing for effect, grumbled, "He's certainly always been a _pox_ to me."

"I love you, Severus, and all your wicked ways," she said, leaning over to tug his hair, but ended up stroking his jawline with one finger instead. The wizard's eyes fluttered and Marian took the opportunity to slide behind him and begin to massage his back and shoulders. In spite of her Cushioning Charms, she knew that he would grow cramped and sore sitting on the ground hunched over a table. He paused in his work and savored the feeling. Marian was especially gentle with his right side. He still had many tender areas, as Nagini's fangs had nearly pierced all the way through him.

As she caressed him soothingly, she teased, "And you don't fool me for a second. I know that you like the boy immensely."

"You're rather impertinent tonight, witch," he replied archly.

"You flatter me, _Caesar_," she commented with a smirk, and added, "You're in a very Roman mood. What's gotten into you?"

"It was the influence of your decadent meal, I would imagine….And ever since I was nearly eviscerated by that snake, I've thought of myself as more of a _Cato_," he returned deprecatingly.

Severus groaned quietly as she worked her way to the small of his back. She answered pertly, "You do have points in common with him…his _stubbornness_, for instance."

"And what of his stoicism? His austerity?" he teased lazily, arching his back and giving himself over to her.

"Not for long," she vowed, before leaning forward to breathe her enticing confession into his ear, "_I intend to corrupt you_."

Marian had noticed his stubbornness nearly from the beginning. She suspected that it must have been incredibly difficult for him to become a double agent, even with his cleverness to assist him, because he had the soul of a martyr. She understood him to a degree, and recognized herself in him. She could tell that he must have been a most obstinate child, unafraid of suffering to make a point. Marian had possessed that same combination of stubbornness and spite. When she was younger, she would have let her parents beat her to death before she would apologize if she wasn't sorry—even if she knew she should be.

Slytherin must have taught Severus survival skills, because it was also his natural bent to be uncompromising. He was the original immovable object. If he had not been forced to act against his nature by his unique circumstances, Marian strongly suspected that the strong-willed wizard was the type to follow his personal convictions without regard for self, sacrificing himself—blinking, she realized that that was exactly what he _had_ done. Outside forces had managed to save him, but only just in time.

"My dear, if you prefer a less stubborn and more _compliant_ man, I might occasionally be persuaded to accommodate you…in the proper venue, of course," he purred, arching back into her eager palms.

"That _venue_ wouldn't happen to be _right here_, would it?" she asked provocatively, and paused to wait for his answer.

"It could be," he responded silkily, and felt her fingers squeeze him spasmodically in response to his interesting suggestion.

She self-consciously cleared her throat and steered the conversation out of dangerous waters by saying sardonically, "Well, now that you're willing to be the docile and obedient man I've always dreamed of, I suppose that I could give you a much better massage if you took off this hair-shirt you call a robe."

He glanced over his shoulder at her and crooked his forefinger, motioning her forward as though he would tell her a secret. Marian leaned in, and he drawled leadingly, "But I'm not wearing anything underneath."

Marian knew perfectly well that he had on undergarments, but Severus could be very proper sometimes, and felt that anything less than a shirt and trousers hardly counted. She snickered and said, "Severus, you uphold wizarding tradition in all the right ways."

"As much as I appreciate your ministrations, this mosaic is not going to finish itself," he said high-handedly. Secretly, he didn't want her to stop touching him, but he was becoming aroused, and that would never do, considering that wizards were nearly as limited in their recourses as Muggles when it came to dealing with that particular _predicament._

Picking up each tile he had trimmed in order to cement it into place, it became as plain as day to her that his glass pieces _were_ more beautiful than her own, and she finally burst out, "Now that the design is coming together, I _know_ that it isn't in my head. Your tiles look much better than mine."

"I see no difference," he stated placidly, continuing to carefully prune a shining white leaf.

Marian snorted with laughter and said, "Really, Severus. What's your secret?"

"I told you before-_patience_," he drawled, now intent on laying the tiles for the riverbank.

"For Merlin's sake, Severus! _That's_ not the answer! There's something about you—something irresistible. Your movements are so graceful and efficient, and you infuse beauty and magic into everything you touch. The pieces of glass that you've handled are better-crafted than the others and, though I know it's not possible, they even seem to shine a little brighter…" she finished, trailing off self-consciously.

Marian had not meant to say so much, but she had marveled over his captivating ways from the very beginning. He tilted his severely-chiseled face towards her, and she saw a flash of gratitude in those black eyes of immeasurable depth. "You make me out to be far more than I am," he retorted, but he was deeply affected by her words.

The awkward, unpopular adolescent that he had been would always live inside him. He knew that many of his behaviors and skills were learned, and expected to be respected for his accomplishments, but it was a warm and unprecedented sensation to be appreciated for things that were just…him. She liked the way he moved and spoke, admired his habits and mannerisms. And he found that knowledge more comforting and freeing than he could have imagined.

"How can you see anything beautiful or magical in me, when you _are_ beauty? You _are_ magic. For me, you're the embodiment of those two concepts. If there was ever a beautiful, perfect creature…it had to be you," he confessed in a rush of emotion, hesitantly reaching towards her face and trailing his long pale finger down her cheekbone, and across her jawline, finally pausing to graze her rosy lips, which were slightly parted, panting at his words and his proximity.

"You asked me before," she murmured breathily, "_why_ I kissed you. I didn't give you a reason, but I had one—I had a hundred thousand. I kissed you because you're here with me at last, and you make me happy and I love you….I was made for you, Severus. It's always been you. It could only have been you."

She lowered her lashes, and felt him turn towards her. And suddenly he pushed the coffee-table out of the way and took her in his arms, and then they were kissing, pouring their souls into one other. They had experienced many kinds of kisses together—frantic and passionate, sensual and thorough, fiery and angry, playful and affectionate, and the gentle, anguished kisses of those expecting imminent separation—but this time was unaccountably different. There was just…love. The passion simmered between them, but it took a backseat to the crashing waves of emotion. After minutes or hours of glorying in each other, they finally paused for breath. "Your wine is seeping into the rug," he murmured with gentle humor, even as he belied his concern over this by sliding his arm around her and pulling her closer. She hadn't even realized she'd knocked over the glass.

"I don't care about the rug…or the wine," she whispered back, capturing his malleable, turned-up lips with her own. After all, she reflected between kisses, drinking was only an earthly pleasure. What was it compared to paradise?

She must have murmured this aloud; because he suddenly abandoned the ear he had been nibbling and crashed his lips to hers once more. Marian had been waiting for the opportune moment and the right words to bring up the topic of marriage, but waiting suddenly seemed incredibly foolish. She would tell Severus now. She had waited all her life to meet someone like him. And he had been very patient with her. Why should she put him off a moment longer? All that mattered was starting a life with the man before her as soon as possible.

She pulled back and took in the sight he made, with his intense, smoldering eyes, hollowed cheeks pink with exertion, and his well-loved, kiss-swollen lips. Marian reverently reached out and took his face in her hand. "Do you still want to marry me, Severus?" she whispered in tones that throbbed with hope and longing.

He regarded her with dark eyes that glittered like stars, like planets, whole worlds awakened at her words. "You know that I do," he breathed, his hand rising of its own accord to cradle hers.

On her knees before him, her eyes blazed with intensity as she pulled her hand away from his cheek, bringing his shapely, aristocratic hand to her lips, where she kissed it with abandon. "Then please marry me, Severus. I adore you with everything that I am. Let me lose everything else, if only I can have you."

His face changed at her words and seemed somehow luminous. He leaned towards her, focusing all of his peculiar intensity on the girl before him, who had just spoken words that he had never expected to hear…at least not addressed to _him_. Overwhelmed with emotion, he rushed to reassure her. "You can. You will. Marian, I won't let you regret your decision. I'll be good to you, and no one will ever love you as I love you," he said fiercely, clasping her fine shoulders and gazing into her eyes, willing her to believe him.

"I know it. I've always known," she confessed, before sliding forward into his arms, straddling his hips with her slim, black-clad legs and pressing his face to her neck, twining herself about him.

At first, he clung to her tightly, feeling her hand tangle in his hair to get even closer to him, but eventually the shock wore off, and joy and wonder took its place. He started kissing her in earnest, and she squeezed his body tighter, gasping in ecstasy. He drew a ragged sigh and asked in a strained voice, "When did you have in mind...?"

Placing significant emphasis on each word, she responded, "As soon as humanly possible," in a harried voice, as she subtly leaned into the hand cupping her breast, and commenced frenziedly kissing every part of him she could reach that wasn't covered by his woolen, monk-like attire.

"_Than_—That is acceptable," he exclaimed brokenly, and then he hissed as she traced the shell of his ear with her tongue, and erotically flicked it inside before gently bending to suck his lobe.

At some point, she had maneuvered him so that his back was pressed lightly against the sofa. Realizing this, she looked into his eyes, seeking permission, and then tilted his head back by tugging his hair, leaving his creamy, scarred throat vulnerable to her mouth's magic. Held prisoner by her slim fingers, and his lower half pinned by the slight press of her thighs, he completely surrendered to her, enjoying his good fortune, and the primal need that surged through him, each cresting wave more potent than the last. And as powerful as his desire had grown, it was accompanied by another need at _least_ as pressing—to be loved and touched. He had been starved of affection all his life, and whatever caresses Marian bestowed upon him left him wanting still more. The days they had kept their distance from one another had been a double torture Severus, who, since he had first discovered what comfort and reassurance he could receive from her touches, had yearned for them constantly. He wanted to drown in her, to give up words altogether and revel in this new silent language of emotion, of finger-strokes and embraces and the gentle press of her body against his. But he was afraid that he would discomfort her with the desperate intensity of his cravings and, in his stubbornness, had resolved not to appear needy. But it was damned difficult with her soft, contoured lips exploring his exposed skin, worshipping him, loving him and drawing him even further in her thrall.

Marian pulled slightly back, after noticing that his hips had begun unconsciously rising to seek hers. She met his hooded eyes smilingly, and smoothed her hands over his cheeks lovingly, arranging his tussled hair with playful care. He felt himself harden further when he noticed the expression in her eyes as she regarded him. She gazed at him as though he were a wonder of the world, a priceless work of art, a Michelangelo's _David_. Severus felt the blood roaring in his ears in response, and realized that a look like that could make a man do crazy things—sack cities, fight dragons, or…take his woman and love her with abandon, until neither of them could walk, until they finally lost consciousness in a glorious, tangled embrace.

But Marian seemed to grasp the exact moment his resolve crumbled and he prepared to surrender to his need, because she forestalled any next moves by slowly easing herself off his lap, peeling herself away with reluctance. After a moment, the sensual haze seemed to disperse a little, and then Marian murmured, "Let's go for a walk before bed."

She knew that it was a supremely bad idea to lie down beside each other in their current state, and, judging by his hasty agreement, Severus obviously thought the same thing. They rose, leaving the mosaic gleaming on the table, only three-quarters finished. But both of them felt that the night had been far from unproductive. They disentangled their limbs and slowly rose to their feet. Marian carefully stepped away from his pooling robes to avoid tripping him. She stretched and approached the front door, and Ms. Bear perked up immediately and began barking, but was silenced by one look from Severus. His talent for keeping order apparently also extended to the animal kingdom. In only a couple of weeks, he had brought a little discipline into Ms. Bear's life and tripled her repertoire of tricks (He would never admit that he felt absurdly proud of this fact). The dog enjoyed exhibiting her new knowledge (and the treats that accompanied her performances). Marian had admired Severus' accomplishment, because she acknowledged that she spoiled the puppy shamelessly.

"Aren't you going to put on any shoes?" he asked, glancing down at her pale bare feet, conspicuous next to her black leggings.

It was late September, and the air was beginning to feel quite nippy, but she thought that the cool grass on her feet would feel wonderfully refreshing, and might help soothe the inferno inside her. "Not tonight," she replied in a lilting voice. He looked at her as though she had suggested something very odd, but his eyes held a softness that reassured her that, even if he thought her ways strange, he nonetheless found them incredibly endearing.

They stepped out onto the porch, and saw that it was a beautiful night, with starlight and moonlight filtering through the dark foliage. Severus waved his wand and suddenly the shafts of starlight in their vicinity grew brighter, and the whole landscape seemed lit with a silvery-white, magical light. Marveling at the sight, Marian half-expected to see dryads and fauns peeking out at her from behind the trees. "It's remarkable, Severus. Is it one of your own spells?" she asked in delight.

"It is….I'm not _completely_ dedicated to the Dark Arts, after all," he said defensively, but it was as though he were trying to justify himself to an absent accuser rather than her. She knew that he knew that she didn't think that about him, but decided that it wouldn't hurt to reassure him anyway.

"I know," she said with a breezy laugh, "A Dark Wizard might have the _capacity_ to create a spell like this, but it would never occur to him to actually _do_ it. In spite of everything, there's so much goodness in you, Severus."

He scoffed, and said in an off-hand, contentious voice, "I'm surprised that you have agreed to marry a man that lacks your faith."

"Do you lack it, Severus, truly?" she asked, and her keen, brilliant eyes bored into him, seeking the truth.

He didn't answer, but kept pace beside her in silent meditation for a few moments before he opened his mouth, and his whisper was nearly lost in the gentle rustling of the trees, "_No_."

With that word, a dam seemed to burst inside him and he poured out in a rush, "But Marian, as much as I want you, you shouldn't settle for me. I don't have a pure heart. I'm like Lancelot. I have seen the Grail, but my sins will keep me from ever attaining it."

Pausing in her tracks and turning towards him, Marian exclaimed earnestly, ""That's not true! The reason Lancelot couldn't achieve the Grail was because he refused to let go of one sin—it was far too precious to him. But _you_-you have turned from your ways."

He still seemed unsettled, and looked as though he would speak again, but Marian forestalled him, intending to answer the other part of his complaint, "And you're mad if you think I'm 'settling' for you. Severus, you're my ideal…the only man I've ever really wanted. I didn't know what it was to love before I met you. Every emotion I've ever felt for anyone pales in comparison….I've never desired anything like I desire you—I would do _anything_ to have your love. And I've felt like this for years. I even told you that I didn't even bother to see the outcome of the battle. When I thought that you were in danger, I abandoned all my other hopes and loyalties and responsibilities….How can you possibly doubt your power over me?"

She had gravitated towards him almost unconsciously, and rested her hands against his chest. Marian knew that they had come outside to cool off, but soon he was going to be her very own, and she felt an irresistible desire to kiss him again. And so she slid her hand up his neck, her fingers lingering tenderly for a moment over where he had been wounded. A shiver passed through the wizard, and he reached for her, as though in a trance, and then he met her lips with his cool, pliant mouth, and each gloried in the other for several shining minutes.

Marian had never fully realized the breadth of her capacity for love. She had always thought that if she loved someone, it would be because she shared an intellectual connection with him, and perhaps some chemistry. And so she was filled with wonder at the deep emotional bond she had with Severus, as well as her overpowering need for him. Marian knew that she would never have achieved the level of happiness and fulfillment alone that she would with the tall, sarcastic wizard—she wouldn't even come close.

When they came up for air, he caressed her hair, her face and shoulders gently, compulsively. Slightly breathless, he murmured, "When you said we would get married 'as soon as possible'…" Severus trailed off, unwilling to say too much, always careful to keep the measure of his desperation concealed. He had waited for her so long already.

"I meant it. I would marry you tomorrow if it were possible….But it's going to be difficult to get a marriage license from the Ministry—you know, with you being legally dead and all," she quipped, looking to him for confirmation.

"You're right, of course. I must take care of that at once. I had already decided to go display myself to those loathsome bureaucrats; I'll just expedite the plan," he replied thoughtfully.

Marian leaned into him slightly, and he put his arm around her. "Severus, if you're not ready…" she began.

"_Not ready?_ Now who's underestimating their power on whom?" he remarked drily.

Marian blushed, slipping an arm around him in return and squeezing him closer to her body, basking in the heat and strength that he radiated. "Not for…for _that_. I _meant_ ready to face the Ministry," she clarified, although she couldn't hide her self-satisfied smile, and he noticed, raising a suggestive eyebrow and causing her face to darken even further.

"I know what you meant," he answered, relenting. His voice hardened slightly as he added, "It will be a tiresome task, but I have nothing to fear."

"Now I hope you're still talking about visiting the Ministry," she snickered, causing his lips to curl upwards in an appreciative half-smile.

"Let me assure you that _'tiresome_' is one of the least accurate descriptors for what it will be like when we finally…enjoy each other….And 'fear' will have no part in it either," he purred, causing a jolt of pleasure to rocket through her.

Her vanity appeased, Marian grinned in delight. But she decided to change the subject before she made a fool of herself. In as authoritative a tone as she could muster, the witch declared, "I want to go with you to the Ministry."

All at once, Severus' lazy, relaxed bearing changed. She felt him tense beside her and she looked up in concern. "Certainly not!" he exclaimed.

"No, Severus! You're not going alone," she declared adamantly.

Turning towards her, he gently grasped her hands, clasping them in his and said, "If you show up with me, the Ministry will know that you had something to do with my disappearance. We know from the papers that the Aurors have no leads on my 'kidnapping'. Well, if you appear, they will have their first one. They will automatically associate you with it, and will investigate you. I doubt that anything I could say would dissuade them. They will want to know what _really_ happened, and of course I have no intention of telling them, and they won't be able to justify attempting to extract the information from me. But they will consider you a 'person of interest' and you will be fair game."

"You're too paranoid. You could just say that you came to my house after you escaped. They would believe that. I don't have a criminal record…" she said leadingly.

"That's true, but you stayed in the country when all the other foreigners had been deported—and that speaks of influence with Voldemort. The Ministry is populated with more pig-headed legalists than any other institution I've ever encountered. They will ignore your efforts in the final battle and will justify keeping you for questioning…and you have many secrets. _We_ have many secrets. If you appear beside me, you will automatically elevate yourself to the level of 'suspect', and no one can really vouch for your whereabouts these past few months," he urged passionately.

Beaten, although she refused to admit it, Marian changed tack for a moment and uttered the somber thought that had been plaguing her, "But love, what if they try to detain you?"

"They won't succeed," he finished grimly. Marian felt a little thrill. He was always so gentle with her that she tended to forget exactly how dangerous he could be. But his laconic words gave her a pleasant tingle as she recalled the extent of his power and ability.

They walked in relative silence for a while, and she occasionally pointed out things that she had planted. Marian didn't really enjoy gardening, and so she had the tendency to plant fruit trees and then let them grow wild. She had several figs, apples, cherries, and even a peach and a fruit salad tree. He had asked if it was magical, to be able to grow three different kinds of fruit on one tree, and seemed surprised when she denied it and claimed it was merely a Muggle innovation.

They passed by a great tangle of vines, which he found unsightly, but regarded in a new light when he discovered that they were Concord and muscadine grapes. "What else do you have around here?" he asked in bemusement.

"Just a thicket of berry bushes. I had bought this land years ago, before I acquired the piece of property with the house on it. Even though I didn't live here then, ever so often I would come to plant something, because it takes such a long while for fruit trees to mature," she commented.

"So you always planned to end up here?" he asked meditatively.

She glanced up at him and said truthfully, "Yes, I did. But many things have changed. It's true that I love this land, but I love something else more—so much more," she caught his eye meaningfully and added, "We needn't settle here. You know that I'll be happy anywhere we can be together."

He gave a strangled laugh and said, "You are martyring yourself enough by marrying me. I will let you give up nothing else."

She practically growled as she spun around and gripped his biceps aggressively, causing him to blink in confusion. "I don't know how to make you understand how much I want you…how much I need you in my life. I try to show you, but you just won't see!" she exclaimed, leaning into the astonished man and kissing him tumultuously, and sucking his lower lip between hers. She pressed his back against a beech tree and enjoyed the groan of pleasure she wrenched from the close-mouthed spy. Marian didn't understand the tidal wave of desire that swamped her every time she touched him; no matter how many times it happened, she never failed to underestimate it and get washed far out to sea. Her hands roamed over him shamelessly, addicted to his hard lines. She knew that she was having an effect on him—even his thick robes couldn't hide his response, but he seemed to be holding himself in check (just barely), riding out her onslaught and letting her do what she would to him. As she moved to lightly bite his neck, he panted, "Then tell me why it was madness."

Beginning to shake with the tremendous effort it took to restrain his passion as he endured the heated assault of her mouth, he spoke without thought. He had needed to say something to slow her down, because it was all too much._ She_ was too much. And so he inadvertently gave voice to a deep hurt, one that had been addressed, but still not completely assuaged.

She pulled back and gazed at him, and his eyes shimmered back at her with fire and starlight, love and confusion and old pain. The black orbs glittered so brightly that they reminded his lover of lights in an underwater city.

"What are you talking about?" she asked softly, her soothing tone and reassuring touches at odds with the hunger she had just displayed for him.

"Why was it 'madness' before when I suggested marriage?" he asked, and she recognized the old familiar wound beneath his flippant tone.

With a glorious light in her eyes, she murmured in impassioned tones, "It wasn't, my love. I've wanted to marry you all along. The moment I first saw you, you took over my thoughts, and since then, all my dreams have revolved around you. I want to marry you, to belong to you forever and for you to be mine and only mine. I want to protect you from every evil. But it just doesn't make sense for you to love me!" she said, wrinkling her brow in a way he found adorable as she tried to puzzle out the mystery.

Continuing, she said, "I thought that I must be projecting my own desires onto you. You're too remarkable, and I was afraid that you would forget all the times you saved my life and focus on the gratitude you felt for me as your temporary caregiver."

He scoffed in disbelief and she finished, "I've been trying to be careful not to influence you and trap you into marriage."

Marian had always been taciturn, but her secrets had the inconvenient tendency to spill out of her around Severus. She found herself voicing insecurities that she had resolved earlier to keep hidden in an effort to be the mysterious, alluring woman she thought he needed. But she had a truthful heart, and the most primal part of her wanted to confess everything, and to have no secrets from him.

"In your insecurity, you forget who you are and misrepresent who I am. Marian, if I am your white knight, then you've set your sights very low…But I'm not complaining….You may be sure of me," he finished in a soft voice, and his irony dwindled away until only sincerity was left.

With a joyous, ringing laugh, she said, "Agreed! Severus, let's never doubt each other again."

He smiled wanly, but was amused by her childlike gaiety. "Come back, you naughty sprite!" he called to her, as she skipped down the path ahead of him. Ms. Bear ascertained Marian's mood, and joined her in gamboling about. Marian traipsed lightly along the bank, filled with the overpowering Bacchic urge to sing and dance and make love that one experiences on particularly fair nights in the wild, breathing in the mountain air, which is at its finest right before the first frost of autumn. She relinquished herself to the heady combination of starlight, wood smoke, running water and requited love.

When she finally returned to his side, breathless and pink-cheeked, he eyed her fondly and said drily, "It's strange that you can go from…what we were doing a moment ago to childish innocence just like that," and he snapped his fingers.

"You men! A woman must always be a 'madonna' or a 'whore'," she teased, wriggling her toes ecstatically in the moss along the riverbank.

"If you must be a 'whore' at all, then it must be only with me," he said adamantly, in a rather high-handed tone.

She snorted with laughter and replied, "And the same goes for you. You have to behave yourself now that you're a _fiancé_."

Severus felt a keen thrill at the word, but indulgently rolled his eyes. Then he shocked the witch by bending gracefully to remove his boots and socks. He nonchalantly caused them to levitate beside him as he walked, and when he glanced back at Marian, secretly seeking her approval, her eyes were as large and bright as two turquoise amulets.

"But you're always so proper," she teased.

"I'm starting my life over," he said with a shrug, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"As you said yourself, now I've become something new. I'm a fiancé. _Yours_," he stressed meaningfully.

"It's funny that you say that….I recently started over myself," she said softly, carefully paying attention to the ground, using her magic to clear his path and cover the dirt and rock with moss, which sprang up in time to provide a cushion for the invalid's pale, beautiful feet. Finally Severus halted, gently squeezing her hand, causing her to glance up at him in question. "Stop that," he murmured.

She shrugged guiltily, and he rolled his eyes and exhaled in a put-upon sigh, reaching forward to remove a leaf that had fallen into her hair. The trees were sparser here, and the modified starlight lit up their faces and the foaming rapids with an ethereal glimmering.

She ignored his complaint about making the ground soft for his feet…and it warmed the deepest part of his heart, which thirsted for care and tenderness, the part that his pride and self-protective instinct rebelled against. And now that he knew how good it felt to let someone else take care of _him_ for a change, the more difficult it was to refuse her attentions.

Marian stopped when he stopped and turned towards him, her back to the water and explained, "Severus, before I met you, I felt like my life was the epilogue of a pleasant story that had gone on too long. All my favorite characters had died, yet I lingered, experiencing little interest as I discovered the destinies of the peripheral players...And then I met this remarkable dark-haired man, and life and richness and meaning and color came flooding back to me. I have more hope and happiness now than I ever did before."

"Let me do nothing to disappoint that hope and happiness," he said quietly, and his words were a prayer.

"You won't," she reassured, reaching for his face and kissing him gently on the forehead, as he had done to her so long ago at their painful parting. Marian added, "You couldn't."

She vowed, "As long as you are yourself, I will love you."

"That's a good incentive to stop improving at once," he joked, although he found it difficult to force out the words over the knot of emotion.

Marian quirked a brow at him and tried her best to mimic his lovely diction as she replied, "Quite so."

They walked a while longer, and Marian realized that they ought to turn back. They had wandered far upstream, where the rapids were wilder and more beautiful. The lovers had climbed up a slope almost without noticing, and the trees had thinned. They had passed beyond the area Marian had haphazardly cultivated, and saw no more fruit trees. There were cedars and pines in profusion, although the few blue spruces dominated the landscape with their splendid, extensive boughs. The river churned and roiled beneath them, and they could feel the spray settle on their face and hair in a fine mist.

"It seems very dangerous," he said suddenly.

And in response to her quizzical glance elaborated, "Taking a boat on that river."

Marian laughed lightly. "Whenever people unaccustomed to paddling look at a run like this, they see one of two things. The foolish ones only grasp the beauty and the excitement that may be had. They imagine that taking a boat out must be fun and exhilarating, getting swept down the current like a theme-park ride. The wiser ones see the river's power and understand a little of the danger, although even they don't see its many forms."

"And what does the experienced paddler see?" he asked sardonically.

"Well, he sees a challenge. Something powerful and dangerous and glorious, that can be navigated and enjoyed with skill, a good eye, and experience of rivers. For instance, one first scouts the section of river, and breaks it down into rapids. Do you see that big rock over there? Well, it's an undercut. You can tell by how the main current heads right for it and goes underneath. If you didn't know what you were about, it would be an easy matter to be swept down and pinned to the underside with thousands upon thousands of gallons of water. The flow might spit you out the other side, and it might not….But careful steering would enable one to ferry across and avoid the rock. One could sit in that small eddy—you can see where the water is different ( it's flowing the opposite direction behind that rock on the left)—and then plan your next move, which would be to avoid that foaming pile down there. It is a hole, and would recirculate you indefinitely. And if you ride the tongue and manage to skirt the hole-"

Severus raised his eyebrow suggestively, and Marian flushed scarlet, momentarily tongue-tied. She eyed him in mock reproach and continued, "_Anyway_, then you need to avoid that downed tree—it's a strainer. The water goes through it—you won't."

"And you wanted _me_ to paddle this?" he asked incredulously.

"Well, not immediately, but once you got really good….Although, now that I think about the hazards, I don't think I want you doing it at all," she confided.

"You seem very passionate about this," he commented.

Looking up at him, slightly chagrined, she declared ruefully, "I'm sorry. I tend to get carried away."

"Don't apologize. I quite enjoy your…enthusiasm," he replied silkily.

She flashed him a demure grin, and emboldened him to continue sedately, "But I think I might be a little too old for this sort of activity."

Sidling up to him, Marian scoffed and replied slyly, "You know what they say, 'A man's not old until he's no longer able to show a lady a good time'."

He took her hand, which seemed slightly chilled, and drew her back from the brink, attempting to distract her from noticing his overly-protective gesture by rejoining drily, "And when is a _woman_ old?"

Glancing up as she paced beside him, she quipped, "I suppose when she's not able to enjoy a good time without breaking a hip."

"In the upcoming years, I'll bear it in mind to be especially gentle with your hips," he returned, in a tone dripping with innuendo.

Twining their fingers, and shooting him an intriguing glance, she purred wickedly, "Please don't."

She felt a tremor pass through his hand. Severus paused mid-step, closing his eyes tightly for a few moments before sardonically muttering (in a rather strained voice, if truth be told), "Why do you torture me so?"

"Because it's my last chance," she responded laughingly, meeting his exasperated expression with eyes shining with mirth. But then she trailed off pensively, "We'll be married soon, and then I won't ever be able to torture you, because you'll have me whenever you want….You'll get your fill of me."

"Why do you say such outlandish things?" he asked, slightly exasperated.

In unspoken agreement, they turned back to make their way to the house. Severus' steps seemed slightly slower and more labored as they began to descend the slope.

She didn't answer him at first, but finally gripped his sleeve and turned towards him, "Severus, I don't know if I can make you happy. I'm used to studying and overcoming challenges. But with this—with us—_I_ am the challenge. My _nature_. You'll grow tired of me. I don't have the ability to keep you interested—to make you fall in love with me again each day."

He snorted derisively, although he was slightly unnerved that she had voiced his own fear—reversed, of course.

"I thought we just agreed never to doubt each other again," he reminded her gently.

"I don't doubt _you_. I doubt myself," she whispered. In her consternation, she had forgotten to continue laying the moss. The two quickly found themselves walking on pine needles, and an occasional sharp stone struck their feet.

"Do you really think that you will lose my love during the night, and have to win me over fresh the next day? …Marian, I don't _trust_ anyone but you. What madness do you think could persuade me to give you up? All of the best things in my life stem from you. One touch from you, a conversation, a night in your arms….is beyond any price. The things that are so important to me and give me so much pleasure because I share them with you would become meaningless with anyone else. What joy would be in a kiss if the lips I touched weren't yours?"

Her soul sang at his words, and she twined her arm about his. She was so close that she could feel his swishing robes brush against her legs as they walked. Marian loved when he spoke to her like this. She had never imagined that he would be so tender, that he would say such things to her—things that another man might say without meaning, but which were actually true coming from Severus. He had a generous heart, although he hadn't had much opportunity to _give_ in the past twenty years, as everything had always been _demanded_ of him. But when Marian exposed her insecurity, it touched a chord in him. After all, he had been struggling with the same silent fears that she had expressed-fears of abandonment, of being found unworthy. And so he had instantly discarded his habitual cool, laconic manner in his rush to reassure her. And he succeeded.

The starlight still filtered down on them, although the trees had grown denser and a subdued Ms. Bear padded cautiously beside them, with her tail down, dragging behind her on the ground. Her whitish fur showed up brightly against the shadowy undergrowth. The small dog disliked being outside in the dark, sensing her vulnerability, although the presence of two humans proved slightly reassuring to her.

After several moments of walking slowly, pressed closely to Severus' side, Marian murmured, "You should put your shoes back on."

He shook his head in refusal, and she dropped the issue, although she felt a flutter of guilt, knowing that he stubbornly kept them off because she wore none. Instead of arguing, she returned discreetly to making a carpet for their feet. If he noticed what she was doing, he at least said nothing about it, and allowed it as an acceptable compromise.

The breeze had picked up, and leaves streamed around them and across their path, embellishing the carpet at their feet. "It's going to rain tonight," Severus commented off-handedly, while he relished the picture she made with her coffee-colored hair gently blowing around her face. He thought she looked like a young elf, a woodland maiden. And she had chosen _him_.

Instead of answering, she said softly, "Severus, I know that we never talk about it, but...Look, you overheard me say that I wanted to wait until marriage to…make love, and you've always respected my wish, even when I never directly asked you to…and many times when I encouraged you to do otherwise. I just wanted to, well, thank you…for respecting me and taking care of me…for being_ that_ kind of man. Your love is so special to me. _You_ are so special."

And then she lightened her earnest, impassioned tone and added, "But you really _should_ run for the hills. I won't give you another chance. Once we're married, you're mine-like it or not."

Instead of replying with a joke or an innuendo, he stopped and faced her, and there was something serious and even shy about his expression. She halted as well, and cocked her head to the side, awaiting his response, all thoughts of the impending rainstorm forgotten. To her utter shock, Severus parted his expressive lips and quoted, "'Don't urge me to leave you or to turn back from you. Where you go I will go, and where you stay I will stay. Your people will be my people and your God my God. Where you die I will die, and there I will be buried. May the Lord deal with me, be it ever so severely, if anything but death separates you and me.'"


	40. Chapter 40

Chapter 40: Preparations

Marian stood speechless for a moment, awed by his words, doubly potent when she grasped that the subtle wizard had taken them from her holy book, which he had just obliquely confirmed as his own. Finally, she replied inanely, "That was from Ruth."

He said nothing else, but his eyes shone out at her, like torch-lit caves. She felt shocked when tears sprang to her eyes, and smiled at him so that he wouldn't misunderstand. The doubting spy slightly relaxed his posture at the radiant smile that graced her lips. He reached out in wonder and captured a tear on the tip of his long, white finger. The wizard eyed the glittering droplet with curiosity…and a little consternation at being the cause of it. She sniffed, self-consciously brushing the water from her cheeks and then batting it off his hand, where, under his keen eyes, she had felt as though the tear were under a microscope. "Thank you," she breathed, in a cracked whisper, and added, "I read those words to you, when you were very sick."

He gently inclined his head, and she moved into his arms. As she hugged him tightly, she felt him sway just a little, and realized all at once that she had let him push himself too hard. Marian needed to get him home as quickly as possible. Taking his hand, she led him along, walking a half-step ahead of him. Severus didn't have the energy to protest, and he allowed his keen eyes to caress her and roam all over her slender figure, from the curve of her waist to her rounded, well-shaped rear. Perusing her did not help his _situation_, but Marian didn't notice. She was far too concerned with taking the shortest route to get her mending lover back to shelter.

Severus took note when they passed the disheveled grape arbor and realized that they were getting close to the house. This knowledge relieved him because he was beginning to feel wrung out, physically and emotionally. He had not exercised like this in months—since before the attack, really-and couldn't wait to get out of the chill air and away from the spurious raindrops that splatted unpleasantly on his forehead and nose. The soft, rich bed linens would feel so good tonight….Severus stumbled, and Marian looked up at him in concern, already regretting that she hadn't limited their walk. Instead of a stroll, it had turned into a genuine hike, but she had been…distracted.

"Have you thought about where you would like to marry?" he asked, in an effort to draw her attention away from his frailty.

"Not really. Have you?" she responded, although from the way her eyes were assessing him, Severus suspected that his attempt at a feint had not been as successful as he had hoped.

"No, although…I would like to have a Muggle marriage license as well," he said, and there was something vulnerable in his posture for a moment, as though he expected that she would say no. But Severus wanted to bind her to him completely. He wanted her to belong to him in the Muggle world just as much as she would in the wizarding one.

Marian eyed him with relief. "I'm so glad to hear you say that," she exclaimed, "I don't think my family would consider us legally married if we didn't have a Muggle marriage license…and we also need it if we want our union to be blessed by the church."

"Indeed," he replied mildly, before adding generously, in tones laced with uneasiness, "I know that most women have a 'dream wedding' that they've been planning since they were little. I'm willing to wait longer if you need time to make elaborate arrangements…"

He said this last through gritted teeth, as though it pained him to force out the words. Marian smiled at him in love and amusement. "I have no preconceived ideas about the wedding day."

"Are you sure?" he asked, cursing his imprudence in pushing the issue.

Twining her fingers with his and relishing the contact with his stronger, larger ones, she said, "Positive….It makes me sad that so many couples get married, and they're more excited about the pageantry and the party and gifts than they are about each other. Some women get married primarily for the wedding—the choice of groom is a secondary consideration."

"That's very true," Severus agreed vehemently, "Vanity is at the root of it. They plan these elaborate spectacles, and then the marriages fall apart in a year."

"Severus, that won't happen to us," she declared fervently, "We're not children, and our characters are fully formed. We know what we want and what's important. I couldn't care less about fripperies like what kind of cake or flowers to order. It seems so trivial to agonize over what sort of dress I should wear, when I'm marrying a man like you….You're more than I ever hoped for."

Each time she reassured him of her love soothed his heart afresh. He never got tired of hearing her say it. Marian was slightly insecure because she had never been in a lasting relationship and had little contact with the opposite sex, but Severus had far greater cause for self-doubt. He had not been alone in criticizing himself—the whole world had joined in with him. But now that he was beginning to regain his strength, and with a constant diet of praise and affection from Marian, he had started to grow more comfortable.

They climbed the rough wooden steps to the front porch and soon found themselves in the foyer of the house, which was bathed in golden light from the pleasing crystal lamp, anchored beneath the lazily-rotating wood fan mounted high in the gable. Severus finally released the spell on his boots and socks, letting them plop to the ground. As an afterthought, he sent his socks soaring across the hall to the laundry hamper, which gained him an approving grin from Marian. He had proven to be fastidiously clean, which she found to be an excellent quality in a man.

The wizard's feet felt chilled and numb, like blocks of stone, and he allowed Marian to maneuver him to the bath with very little protest. He emerged from the tub feeling warm and cozy, but the bath had sapped the last of his energy. He had intended to take a shower, but had felt too weak to stand much longer and said nothing when Marian had started filling the basin for him. She left him alone to go lay out their night things, closing the door behind her.

While Severus was engaged in washing his long, lean limbs, he took care of_ another_ problem, which had been a persistent one for the last couple hours. Taking himself in hand wasn't something that Severus did regularly, but he knew that he would have no chance of sleeping in his current state, worn out though he was. Just as he planned to exit the bath, his mind returned to their encounters earlier and how she had felt and tasted, and then he swore in surprise to find that he had hardened again, and must repeat the whole process.

And so feeling _significantly_ drowsier than before, he exited the bathroom, and dressed in one of his prim nightshirts, which he found lying atop the turned-down bed. It occurred to him that he might be able to eschew nightshirts altogether in the near future, and decided with a flutter of excitement that the idea had merit. Severus noticed with pleasure that she had built a fire in the bedroom, although she had left the doors open to the cool night air. But this suited him admirably, as he had come to enjoy having a fresh breeze as he slept. The dungeons had always been so close and dank and noxious. Marian preferred to sleep in a cold room with circulating air, and to snuggle under soft down blankets for warmth. She had won him over to this way of thinking as well, without even trying.

After having lived together for a while, they had come to share many habits. Severus no longer rose as early as he had done during his tenure at Hogwarts. They both enjoyed staying up until midnight or one, and so they rested a little later in the morning. Marian's optimum sleep was about eight or nine hours, and so Severus fell into this pattern as well, which was good for him and helped him to heal more quickly. Occasionally, he would wake up when it was still dark, out of habit, but her warm, supple body draped tenderly about his quickly talked him out of any notion he might have had of rising, whereupon he would sigh in contentment and nestle closer for several more hours of sweet sleep.

In spite of his exhaustion, Severus' male pride demanded that he approach the hearth and fiddle with the fire for a few minutes. Marian entered softly, smiling indulgently at his exertions. Apparently, he had taken it into his head that fires were somehow _his_ responsibility, and he took them very seriously. Grudgingly, she admitted that his managed to burn longer and cleaner than hers, but, then again, he seemed to do _everything_ with more skill than other people.

Marian came closer with a rueful grin, and reached out and stroked his back as she passed him on her way to the shower. When she returned to the bedroom, she found Severus still awake, propped up in bed with a book, his clever fingers engaged in turning over a leaf. Ms. Bear slept pressed to his side, with all four feet in the air. Marian felt a little flutter in her chest to see him reclining there, regarding her with that soft, proprietary look.

Severus closed his book and placed it on the nightstand with alacrity. That accomplished, he turned towards Marian's side of the bed and waited for her to slip in beside him. She had changed into a nightgown, which was fairly modest, purple and airy, swishing gently just above her knees. Sinking into her pillow with an almost inaudible sigh, she turned towards Severus and smiled at him. She reached over and began to pet the puppy slowly, asking softly, "How do you feel?"

He removed her hand from the dog and placed it over his heart. "I think I might be…happy," he intoned, with only a hint of teasing in his voice.

"How do _you_ feel?" he asked after a moment's pause.

Suddenly her lips parted and she grinned joyously at him, "Excited!" she replied, in a happy voice that caused smile lines to form at the corners of Severus' eyes and thin, firm mouth. She paused for a moment to savor the sight he made. He seemed younger when he smiled, and lost his pinched, haunted look. Gazing on him now, Marian could almost believe that his years had been untroubled. Shaking herself, she bent her pillow in half and propped her arm on it.

Eying him gravely, she said, "But we have a lot to talk about. We've spent all this time in limbo, postponing our decisions. First of all, where would you like to live? I know that you have ties to your own lands—how could you not after spending so many years in a castle in the Scottish highlands? We will live where it pleases both of us. I would not be averse to moving to England, or Scotland, or anywhere else for that matter. Even if you decide to return to Hogwarts, I will not mind and will gladly settle there with you."

He shuddered at her last suggestion and said, "No, we've talked about this before. I will not be returning to Hogwarts. Until I met you, it was the only place I was ever really happy. Life there was far superior to what I experienced at my own home, and a part of me will always love it. I knew every stone…."

He tilted his head back and his eyes had a faraway look in them. After a pause, Severus seemed to come back to himself and when he spoke again, his words had lost their dreamy quality and sounded almost harsh. "But after the last year…the things those walls have seen me do….No, I will not go back. I hate teaching and administrative work. It is time for me to try to find a life outside the castle. I have been institutionalized too long—just another Hogwarts' creature, like one of the ghosts or animated suits of armor," he spat.

Marian reached over and began to rub his arm soothingly. Severus gradually relaxed. To her soft fingers, his arms felt like reinforced iron. He hadn't realized that he had grown so tense, and was surprised to notice that his fists were clenched. He supposed that he must be very tired to lose control of his body like that. It was most unusual for him.

She scooted even closer, rubbing his arm and his chest, as he lay on his back, staring pensively at the fire. "For someone that hates teaching as much as you do, you're uncommonly good at it," she remarked placidly.

He cocked an eye at her and commented drily, "How would _you_ know?"

"Well…I _might_ have eavesdropped on your DADA class through the listening device I placed on Harry's wand," she admitted, absentmindedly toying with the collar of his shirt.

He turned towards her in surprise, causing her hand to slip just inside the neckline and skate along his collarbone. Severus had never considered the possibility that she knew about this area of his life. He was secretly intrigued to hear her impressions of his teaching. Students had claimed to hate his classes, but he had always wondered what a clever person would think about them. He felt certain that he had been a supremely competent instructor, but he knew that he had been harsh and impatient. He paused before answering, in an indecipherable tone, "After so many years, I suppose that even _I_ am guaranteed to manage at least one good lesson. I'm pleased that it was the one you happened to...stumble upon."

"Actually, I heard them all," she confided, with glimmering eyes that held a tinge of uncertainty. Severus could be very inscrutable when it suited his purposes, and she didn't know whether he was pleased or offended by her spying.

But he relieved some of her tension when he let out a shaky breath that might have been a laugh and commented ironically, "_Accidentally_, of course."

"You know me better than that, Severus," she said slyly.

"Indeed I do," he retorted, reaching over to twirl a wandering lock of her hair around his finger, as it had been tickling his arm most distractingly.

She huffed in amusement and exclaimed, "How was I supposed to resist? You hooked me your very first lesson….Your voice, low and silky, vibrating with knowledge and passion and power….Listening to you teach was incredibly erotic—and I learned a lot, too," she finished impishly.

His expression changed several times during her compelling confession. He was thrilled, aroused, and a little doubtful. Severus had expected that to enjoy his lessons she must have focused on his content and overlooked his irritable delivery, but apparently that was far from the case. His thoughts began to whirl. It seemed inconceivable that his speech could have _this_ effect on anyone….Although, she certainly seemed sincere.

"You're a strange little creature," he said in bemusement, although the idea of her clearing her schedule at certain times during the week just for the privilege of listening to him made him feel warm. He tried not to think of her becoming aroused by his teaching, because that was just too much. He had barely reined in his unruly body after their delicious encounters earlier in the evening. He couldn't allow himself to lose control now—not while he lay in bed beside her, with her soft, supple curves so close to him. They had controlled themselves this long; how hard could it be to wait until the wedding? Pretty _hard_, he thought with a grimace.

"I mean it, Severus. You truly have a gift when it comes to teaching. I know quite a bit about the Dark Arts myself, but you had me spellbound—every time. But as talented and informative as you are, I'm very thankful that I never had a professor of your caliber and appeal. I would have been irresistibly tempted to behave…unprofessionally," she disclosed, lying on her side and unknowingly giving him a perfect view of the plump swell of her breasts.

It was difficult to tell, but he might have been blushing. They lapsed into silence for a moment before she spontaneously inquired, "Out of curiosity…did any of your students ever make a pass at you?"

Her words caused him to chuckle in surprise and murmur, "_Marian_…" in mock-reproval.

But when she only cocked a dark, slender eyebrow at him in genuine interest, he relented and took her question seriously. "Nothing…overt. But I was the youngest teacher at Hogwarts by far, and there were a couple of times during remedial potions and detention with older students when I had the distinct impression that they might be about to attempt something of the sort. I know how that sounds—that I had the '_impression_' that they '_might_' try something, but they would get this certain bold look in their eye—a look I have seen many times among the Death Eaters, and-"

"And you're a _Legilimens_," she finished for him.

Severus nodded. "You must understand that I only received surface readings, impressions…nothing concrete. I would never attempt to delve into a student's mind unless it was a life-or-death matter….But, in any case, once I caught even a hint that they were considering something of the sort, I would be particularly harsh and nasty towards them and the problem would resolve itself."

She laughed softly. "You acted for the best, but I imagine that it was awfully hard on those poor little girls that had crushes on you," she replied, playing with the cuff of his sleeve as he toyed with her hair.

"They didn't have _crushes_ on me. They only meant to use me—to blackmail me for better grades, special treatment," he declared, and Marian thought that she detected something bitter in his matter-of-fact tone.

Thoughtfully, she replied, "I don't know, love. I'm sure that it's true for a few of them, but I'd be willing to bet that some were more than a little excited at the thought of being ravished by someone so tough and authoritative, with such a cultured voice and hard, sexy body, and-"

She meant every word, but was practically frisking in the sheets in her pleasure at getting to say it to Severus. He admonished with a lazy smile, "I think you've said enough, Marian….Any more praise from you and this 'sexy body' of mine will be_ quite_ 'hard'."

She felt a powerful surge of desire at his words, and quickly looked away, knowing that if she saw an answering fire in his eyes that she would be lost. "Do you ever pick up _my_ thoughts?" she asked suddenly.

"What?" he blinked, and then answered, "No. I occasionally pick up your emotions, if they're particularly strong. To be honest, I'm not really on my guard when I'm around you….It has been quite a while since I was paranoid enough to constantly scan."

Pleased at his reply, she nonetheless pushed further, voicing something she had been curious about for quite a while, "Do you think that when we make love that you could…?"

She trailed off meaningfully and he swallowed hard before finishing her question straightforwardly, "That I could invade your mind? I seriously doubt that I'll have the focus for that."

Marian had sat up in bed, and he allowed her silken lock to slip slowly through his fingers. She nodded at his comment, keeping her eyes downcast. Severus paused for a moment and then felt prompted to add, in a rather shaky voice, "But I will probably pick up your feelings about what you're experiencing….And if it's good for you, I suspect that it will be almost unbearably pleasurable for me."

The last words came out in a whisper, and she trembled in spite of her best effort to appear calm and unaffected. But the thought of Severus sensing her passion, and being driven wild by it and taking them both to new heights—well, it was a pretty potent fantasy.

She arched her back and tilted her head back, taking deep breaths to calm herself. Severus had to force his eyes away from her white, throbbing breasts, which were swathed delicately in iolite gauze. She finally forced her mind to clear and changed the subject. Severus lay very still, reclining with two compressed down pillows supporting his dark head, and she suspected that he was having the same problem as she.

Summoning her brush, she began to work through the tangles and prepare to braid her hair for bed. Her companion eyed her wistfully as she skillfully began the French braid. Whenever she dressed her hair for bed, he secretly felt like a child whose favorite toy was being put away. He loved it long and loose and gleaming. _When they made love for the first time, he would make sure that she left it down all night._ That thought didn't particularly help his growing problem, and he was relieved when Marian began speaking again, about something that would distract him.

"We have wandered far from our original topic," she murmured, her pale, silky arms looking like angel's wings to her lover, as she bent her limbs at the elbow weaving her hair together. She continued, "We were talking about where we intended to live. Even if you don't mean to go back to Hogwarts, we can still live in Scotland. I mean, we have portkeys, and it will only be a matter of time before we perfect one that will take us to multiple destinations. We can live anywhere in the world. If you prefer the city, we'll go to the city. If your heart lies in England, we will go there. You still have that house there, after all…"

Her words touched him. He had never had anyone put his feelings and desires first, with nothing to gain by it but his happiness. It was a unique experience for the mistrustful wizard, and he felt that familiar warm, protected sensation come over him again. She truly put him first, and he felt cradled by her love. But it was very difficult for him to show it, although the glimmering in his eyes revealed far more to her than he thought. He replied pragmatically, "No. I loathe the city. To tell the truth, I cannot imagine a better place than the one we have here. It's as if we live in our own private country. It's very remote, and you have done an excellent job of keeping it secret and secluded…"

He didn't say, "_And I feel safe here_," but she could tell that it was what he meant. He might enjoy limited social interaction, but at heart, he was a solitary, wary creature that desired to return to his den at the end of each day.

Severus added, "It's also very beautiful, and there's plenty of space….And _Spinner's End_ is not an option."

This last he said in a rather harsh tone that jarred with his pensive, speculative manner of a moment before. "Why not?" she asked curiously.

He surprised her by the vehemence of his response. "That house has seen nothing but misery. It practically oozes from the rotting wallpaper. I have no wish to retake my place on the couch where my tyrant of a father used to reign over us. Or to return to the bedroom where I used to cower in fear—a miserable, helpless, sniveling wreck. Or to escape only to walk the streets of those slums, seething with powerlessness and humiliation as I was mocked by my schoolfellows and disdained by adults, known as 'that low-class Snape boy' or something else equally vile…and equally true."

Marian had been waiting for an opportunity to ask him about his childhood, but had never been able to find a good opening. Self-consciously, he broke off mid-rant, meeting her concerned, gentle eyes. "Tell me more," she said softly, reclining and facing him again, sliding her hand lightly along his upper arm.

He muttered, "I'm ashamed to tell you these things. You must find it disgraceful that I didn't get along with my parents-that my father despised me, and my mother never loved me. I was their _only_ child. You would have thought that they might have cared just a little."

He swallowed back his bile and continued, "You know that my father was a Muggle. Somehow, early on, he got it into his head that I wasn't his because I was magical—that there was nothing of him in me. It didn't make any sense, especially since my mother was slavishly devoted to him and hardly an attractive woman. I look just like him-hideous hooked nose and all-but he wanted a reason for the way he felt about me, and was willing to grasp even the weakest straw.

"I know that loving parents that have stayed together always tell their children, 'Never marry someone from a broken home if you don't want a broken marriage', and that 'history repeats itself', and 'abusive fathers beget abusive children'—_not_ that we're planning to have any," he amended hastily, before adding, "But I want you to know that I will never lay a hand on you. _Ever_. Even if you come at me with an axe, I'll never strike you or hurt you. And I don't believe in divorce. I'll never threaten it, and I'll never leave you."

She began soothingly carding her fingers through his hair, looking on him with affection. How this Slytherin must love her to give up his only bargaining chip! Most people—in fact, _everyone_ she knew—had at least one line that could not be crossed without divorce as the consequence. For some, that line was adultery, although most had quite a few more—everything from substance abuse to 'irreconcilable differences'. Quite a few of her friends and relatives viewed marriage in much the same way as they did a convenience store-to be entered and exited at will, for the most trivial reason. _But not Severus._ He had told her that no matter what she did to him, whether she was unfaithful or abusive or anything else that he would still never divorce her or leave her. This vow awed Marian, and comforted her insecure, faithful heart as little else could have.

Even though they would strive never to hurt each other, she knew that problems were inevitable for them. But the glimpse he had just shown of the depth of his commitment to her made her feel safe. He spoke in a silken whisper that vibrated with unmistakable sincerity, "Marian, I want to be a good husband. I want you to love me. I have my faults, which have been made manifest by the newspapers and former students. But I'll try to mitigate them with you. I don't want your love to grow cold, for you to start to hate me."

"How could I?" she asked fondly, and stroked his cheek as she reassured him, saying, "In certain ways, you and I are such all-or-nothing people. I'm not naïve. I know that marriage isn't going to be all pleasure and poetry—we're both moody and can be savagely irritable. We're thin-skinned, prone to self-doubt and over-analyzing_ everything_.

"But even at your snarkiest and most critical, I would still rather be with you than anyone else. You're the best there is. One minute of conversation with you is more stimulating and pleasurable than any book, movie, or social interaction….I guess what I'm trying to say is-_I think I'll keep you_."

His lips curved upward, and he replied sardonically, "Well, that's rather decent of you."

She laughed and reached over to slap him playfully on his right arm. She could feel the unyielding, corded muscle beneath her fingers and couldn't help but shiver with longing, stroking him just a little too long. Hoping that he didn't notice, although her need hardly escaped the dark eyes of the watchful spy, Marian pretended to be examining his wounds. She reached inside his neckline and bared the two punctures at the base of his throat to her anxious perusal. Lightly fingering the scar tissue, she began unbuttoning his nightshirt to have access to the others. They looked far better than before. It was remarkable how his flesh had regenerated, and the once-gaping holes had closed over, although her soft, probing fingers detected the uneven texture of his skin—the silky smoothness interspersed with knottier areas that had very recently been mortal wounds.

But if this examination was distracting Marian from her desire, it was doing quite the opposite to Severus. Having her partially undress him, and then drag her fingers across his neck and chest was beginning to make him unravel. He didn't stop her, although he gave a soft, strangled sigh and attempted to change the subject, "Tell me about your childhood. You had a happy home, did you not?"

She paused in her caresses and met his eyes guiltily, "Very. There were a lot of us; I was the oldest….And artfully done, Severus. You've grown quite diplomatic in your old age….I'm sorry. You just can't imagine how much I enjoy touching you."

He raised an eyebrow at her audacity, and Marian began to re-button his nightshirt—slowly. As soon as they were married, his nightshirt would be the first thing to go. She had a desperate craving to be skin-on-skin with him. She needed to hold his bare, sinewy body in her arms, to be as close to him as humanly possible….Shaking her head to disperse the wicked thoughts churning about in her head—and apparently her body, as well—Marian replied to his question in earnest, "My home was happy. You're right. There were four children, and I was the oldest. My parents loved each other and they loved us. They're both gone, but I love my brothers and sister. They're all Muggle, and they all married spectacular people and had two kids apiece—although my sister, Elaine—she's the youngest, only has one."

"Why are you not close to them now?" he asked, in genuine puzzlement.

"Did I tell you that? Never mind, I suppose it must be obvious to you, since you've been with me every day for the past several months and I've barely contacted them. Don't get me wrong….We still care about each other and get together on special occasions, and sometimes call each other on the phone, but there are natural barriers. I'm four years older than my brothers. They're twins—Alex and Andy. They've always had each other growing up, and unconsciously regarded all other people as outsiders. They went to different schools, which forced them to branch out and forge other human connections. They're great—really funny, with wonderful personalities, but we have few shared interests. They're obsessively interested in Muggle sports and video games, to the exclusion of almost everything else, which drives their wives crazy. Having kids has been good for them. It gave them an incentive to grow up and begin to invest themselves in their careers.

"I'm twelve years older than my sister, and so she looks at me as more of an aunt or something—I don't know. There were a few years when I would take her with me on camping trips, but that phase quickly passed once she began to get friends with cars. She calls me more than the others do. I talked with her a few months ago, and we all planned to get together to celebrate her husband's birthday in May, but I had to cancel—for obvious reasons," she confided, snuggling closer as a gust of wind made the gauzy curtains jump and dance.

"If they're so wonderful, then why do you not spend more time together? Do they resent you for your magic?" he asked, hackles rising on her behalf.

Marian smiled at his protective show and replied, "No. Magic doesn't really factor into the equation. They know next to nothing about the magical world. My dad and I were always very discreet. My parents didn't want them to feel like they were missing out, and so I always kept it very low-key. They knew I studied spell books, but as far as I could tell, always just looked at magic like another subject I spent time studying—like chemistry or calculus. I was in Muggle high school before I transferred to my first magical school, the Baltimore Academy of Magic. They didn't display any interest at the time….I guess that they don't really think of me as a witch. They definitely have no conception of what I can do.

"But in any case, they're not the resentful type. They love me—they just don't understand me—and that fact has nothing to do with magic and everything to do with tastes and personality. I don't really understand them either. You know what a Muggle writer says, 'One half of the world cannot understand the pleasures of the other'. It was very true in our case, and we drifted apart, although we would still do anything for each other. I suppose my brothers and sister found me boring. I've always disliked crowds and noise, so drinking, partying, and sporting events hardly appeal to me. Instead I read, learned things. We can talk about shared experiences and people we know, but that's about it….."

"You seem rather more daring now, if you only ever read and studied when you were younger," he said with dancing eyes.

"Oh no! I was never a fan of_ team_ sports, but I loved other things. I used to swim and sail and dive….I had a group of Muggle friends and we used to do wilderness activities together—rock climbing, backpacking, caving...that sort of thing. They didn't know about my magic….Unfortunately, most of them moved out west several years ago. I suppose the Rockies exert a powerful call to people of that bent," she disclosed.

"You were one of them, and yet_ you're_ not out west," he pointed out. Even though he loved her and they had much in common, when he heard things like this, he found her such an alien creature.

"Perhaps I was never_ really_ one of them," she mused, and before he could comment on this odd statement, she added, "I have been to Utah, Colorado—all over the place, in fact. I found the Rocky Mountains majestic, grand, but I suppose they're too grand for me. I love these green hills of my own land, the forests and the rivers…."

"And yet you suggested we move," Severus stated accusingly.

"I would do it for you!" she exclaimed readily.

He huffed and retorted, "And I would never let you. You really are the most impossible girl."

She removed his fine-boned hand from her bare arm and nuzzled it with her cheek. "I've been called worse," she murmured placidly, and added, "Besides, we're not retirement age yet. We could live many more places before we settle down."

Severus made no reply to this. No matter what she said, he felt that he had all the facts of the matter and had already made up his mind. This would be their home. Deciding that they might as well move on to the second order of business, he asked, "Do you want your family to take part in our wedding?"

Since he had first heard that she had living relatives, he had been consumed with curiosity about them. He wanted to know all about her, and what had molded her into the fascinating person that she was. He figured that studying her family would be an excellent place to begin.

"I do. It would be awful of me not to invite them, since I was involved in all their weddings," she declared adamantly.

Severus had been feeling warm and sleepy, but their conversation had perked him up again and he felt alert and very interested in all this new information about Marian. Between the bedside lamp and the cheery glow emanating from the fireplace, the lovers had no difficult viewing one another. Eerie shadows danced on the far wall, and Severus could smell rain in the air, mixed with the scents of the loamy forest, and the heady smoke of oak logs burning in the grate, but his sensitive nose was especially attuned to the delicate, spicy fragrance that denoted the presence of the woman he loved. Every few minutes, the wind would pick up outside and a stiff breeze would invade from the open doors, chilling their exposed skin and fanning out the sheer, indigo curtains like gauzy, horizontal sails.

Marian shivered slightly as a gust passed over them, and Severus slid the smooth, fluffy comforter over her bare shoulder, and tucked it in around her, shielding her from the elements. The look of thanks that she gave him warmed his heart even more than his action had warmed her body.

"Do you have any family alive?" she inquired, and involuntarily craned her ears for the first drops of rain, whose arrival promised to be imminent.

"No," Severus returned matter-of-factly, and tried not to let his ancient hurt surge forward again. He had never had a family, never been loved, never been protected. To the abused, neglected man, Marian would be the first.

Marian was rather shocked by this statement. She had taken it for granted that almost everyone had cousins and aunts and uncles and all manner of distant relations. _She_ certainly did. "None?" she asked incredulously.

"Not even one," he answered in wry tones that were slightly subdued. Marian extracted the warm little puppy from underneath the blanket, where she had glued herself to Severus' side, and moved her so that the dog was no longer between them. Ms. Bear would soon have to find other sleeping arrangements, Marian thought refully. Severus had accepted the animal with surprisingly little difficulty. She couldn't know it, but as a child, he had always wanted a pet, and the gentle acceptance and companionship of her sweet little dog had proved very comforting to him during his recuperation.

Marian slid upward in bed, before touching his shoulder to urge him deeper into her arms. As the long, lean wizard eased forward into her embrace, she pillowed his head on her breasts and began gently stroking his hair, after making sure that the blanket was secure around him. He sighed in contentment, at the warmth and exquisite comfort of her arms. Those years of tossing and turning alone in a cold, hard, cheerless bed seemed very far away, as her loving hands were a joyous reminder that he was living a new life, and need never return to that darkness.

"I suppose it would be poor form not to meet them before the ceremony," Severus said in deceptively lazy tones, while surreptitiously sniffing her neck.

"Hmm…Perhaps you're right. I hadn't thought very much about it. I guess that they ought to meet you before we get married and you become family," she mused.

"Yes. It's only fitting that they ought to have the opportunity to voice their concerns and try to warn you off," he murmured, and Marian sensed roiling insecurity beneath his coolly-delivered words.

"Oh, love. They don't get the privilege of 'vetting' you. Although I think that they will respect you instinctively, and grow to care for you….But as much as you'd like to deny it, you're still convalescing. I want to keep your stress to a minimum, so we will make it a short visit. Maybe we could spend part of a Friday or Saturday afternoon celebrating with them and then have the wedding the next day. We could go to the Ministry first for a short bonding ceremony, and then head to a chapel for the Muggle one, and my family could be present for that," she suggested.

By carefully steering the conversation away from potential unpleasantness when dealing with her family and towards organization and making plans, she put Severus at ease immediately. He enjoyed hammering out all the details. Now that they were to be married, he was impatient to decide everything. If they had a plan of action, suddenly their marriage would seem possible.

"_Which_ Ministry?" he demanded.

She cocked her head to the side and murmured, "I don't suppose it matters. Which do you think?"

He pondered the question in silence for a moment before responding, "The American Ministry. A wedding in either country is valid throughout the wizarding world, but it might take longer to get leaked to the papers if we do it here."

"Good thinking," she replied approvingly, before saying, "By the way, Tonks asked me to stand up with her at her wedding. Would you mind terribly if we returned the favor?"

This last she said with trepidation, knowing that he was likely to object strenuously; if Tonks was involved, then they must necessarily include her husband…and then it would be an easy matter for Sirius to get wind of the event and join in. She knew that the faces of the Marauders were the last thing Severus would want to see on his happy day.

He paused for a long while, wearing a conflicted expression, before answering in a resigned, exhausted voice, "If you feel that it is what we ought to do, then we will do it."

She had expected him to resist this suggestion vociferously, and when he didn't, and merely gave her a tired, sacrificial answer, Marian had a sudden insight into how much that reply had cost him and just how much he was willing to give up to please her—and she suddenly felt very sorry. Eying him with warmth mingled with guilt, she kissed his cheek, murmuring, "Thank you, my darling. But don't start dreading it yet. I'll try to think of something that will work for everyone, but you're my prime concern. I'm not going to let you feel unhappy for a single moment on that day."

Severus responded to Marian's affectionate response by rolling onto his back and taking her with him, placing an arm around her shoulders so that she lay cuddled up to his body. She murmured ideas to him, and he listened raptly, making the occasional languid suggestion in his soothing, deliciously masculine voice. Soon the rain started with a few splashing drops, and then it came down in gusting sheets, beating just outside the French doors with a ferocious intensity. The air practically sang with energy, and Marian couldn't help the enticing thought that it was a perfect night to have her way with this man of such secret, intense passion.

She loved his body in a way that surprised her. Marian had never noticed men with attractive physiques, and whenever her friends had pointed them out, she had looked on the muscles with a clinical eye, feeling nothing. But Severus was so beautiful to her—so sexy. She loved his lean, tough, male body. Some men were made with such a delicate bone structure that if they wore wigs they could easily be mistaken for women. Not so Severus. He was very masculine, possessing rugged, angular features. He had the body of a man in his prime, although it had grown weathered by all manner of ill-fortune. But his silvery scars and long, ropy muscles made him even more captivating to the witch that loved him.

He had such a strong, powerful presence that she felt safe and protected by him, which was a novelty to Marian. In whatever pairing she found herself, she had always been the stronger one. When she had taken trips with friends, it had always fallen to her to do the planning and get them out of tough spots. But she had finally found someone strong enough, capable enough to take care of her as well as himself. In her secret soul, Marian found it an unprecedented joy to be able to give up a little control and depend on someone else for a change.

Being held by him, feeling the soothing rise and fall of his chest and listening to the rain, she slipped into a healing, delicious slumber. Severus swiftly followed after.

The next morning upon waking, both experienced the sort of sparkling, suppressed excitement that one feels at the start of the holidays or when expecting a delightful surprise. The sky was a clear, azure expanse, proving a vivid complement to the trees, which rustled with changing leaves in every warm color in the spectrum. As the stiff, balmy breeze blew away the last vestiges of cold mist, Marian's sensitive nostrils detected the aroma of a campfire, borne from far away, possibly from the distant mountain, miles downstream of their little lodge. She could already tell that it was going to be the sort of day that would lure even the pastiest couch potato out of doors. The weather was perfect for going to the fair, sailing, or rambling through the hill country.

When she walked out onto the balcony, her nightgown snapped and flapped around her like a purple banner. She was valiantly trying to keep her skirt from rising when Severus soundlessly approached from behind and wound his warm, steely arms about her. She leaned into him with a sigh, raising a hand to curl around the back of his neck, glorying in his steady strength. She still couldn't believe how much she wanted him. Just the thought of him was enough to make her tremble with need. They stayed like this, with him wrapped about her, for a few moments, and then he murmured something in her ear about the surprisingly fair weather. But both of their bodies thrummed with pleasure at being so close to each other, and it took no time at all before she had turned around in his arms and they were eagerly kissing, artlessly reveling in one another.

As tired as he had felt the night before, Severus had revived with the morning sun, and felt full of ambition to begin checking items off the list of things that they must do before they could be married. Marian chimed in to his silent thoughts when she confided, "I'm going to call my brothers and sister today. Tell them about us."

"Alright. I have some things that I must take care of this morning as well," he said in decisive tones. She thought about asking what they were, but his manner didn't encourage prying.

"I'll go make breakfast," she offered, dismayed that she must soon leave his embrace, but eager to share the news about them, not only because she longed to share her happiness with her family, but because, that completed, she would be one step closer to being his wife.

"That's not necessary," he objected, "I'm going to be rather busy for the next few hours. I'll just have some coffee. I should be finished in time for lunch."

After some coaxing on her part, he headed to the lab with a piece of toast, topped with liberal amounts of cinnamon and sugar, smiling to himself over how she had sweetly persuaded him to eat. Although he usually kept the door to his lab closed to prevent fumes from escaping out into the home, this phase of his work wasn't particularly perilous, and so he left it completely ajar, his ears pricked up to listen to any stray bits of telephone conversation. Marian had a small, portable phone that she kept in her pocket, while she spoke into a small receiver hooked over her ear. It impressed Severus, who was beginning to grow secretly fascinated by Muggle technology.

He couldn't see what she was doing, but could tell that she was moving to different parts of the house, because her voice would grow faint and several minutes would pass during which he was unable to hear her, no matter how much he craned his neck. But when she came within the vicinity of the lab, he could tell by her joyous tones that things were going well. And he almost laughed aloud in pure delight when he overheard her exclaim to one of her siblings in a ringing voice, "We're getting married! ….Yes, he's incredible. I never thought I would meet anyone like him…or love anyone so much."

After that, Severus had heard enough, and gently closed the door. He went back to his workstation with a secret smile curving his thin lips and a warm leaping and dancing taking place in his chest. Two or three hours of intense concentration and delicate work passed, and he finally removed his cauldron from the flames, and wafted the whitish smoke away impatiently to peer at his creation.

Once the fumes dissipated, he examined the miniscule object in satisfaction. The potion had all boiled away, leaving only one small, hard kernel, which he carefully extracted from the once titanium, but now solid gold cauldron with a set of golden tongs. He held it to the light, before gently placing it down onto a gleaming salver. Severus suddenly felt quite tired, and was forced to pull out the stool Marian had slyly maneuvered into the lab during his first day of work. He had never had occasion to get rid of it, and was quite grateful for it now, if truth be told.

This project had been one he had worked on over several weeks, but it had existed in his imagination far longer. Because it required such care and skill, he could only labor at it for briefs spurts before feeling completely wrung out. He had intended to drag the process out over several more weeks—months possibly, because he had not anticipated needing the finished product for quite some time. But last night had changed everything, and now he was pushing the limits of his strength in an effort to have it completed as soon as possible, which he had grimly decided was going to be _today_.

Severus peered closely at the remarkable object that he had just created—a product of fire and his clever potioneering. Sighing, he realized that there was still much to do. The spells he had decided on were hardly simple, and the nature of the captivating thing he had made would demand extra work from him to accommodate its…idiosyncrasies.

Cursing his frailty, he wordlessly summoned a Strengthening Solution and downed it with practiced ease. Staggering to his feet, he moved slowly back to his workstation. He would need to be standing in order to perform some of the complicated wand motions.

Hours later, he finished, noticing with disgust that his hands were trembling. But in spite of that, he tidied up and carefully wrapped up the object, after peering speculatively at it one last time. His boots making barely any noise on the wooden floorboards, Severus padded towards the kitchen, wondering when he heard no sound that denoted the presence of Marian or Ms. Bear in the house. He smelled food, but perhaps she had gone outside, or _perhaps_…that really _was_ a spell he felt, prickling his skin. The majority of wizards couldn't detect the presence of any but the most potent charms, but Severus had an uncanny gift for sensing when there was an active spell in his vicinity.

Stepping through the door into the eerily silent kitchen, he was met with the sight of Marian swaying tantalizingly as she prepared their lunch, as well as a burst of sudden sound, as she sang unrestrainedly to herself. She didn't have a very good voice, but it was low and tolerably pleasant, and she maximized it by sticking to songs in her range.

"…You'll never know how many dreams I've dreamed about you, or just how empty they all seemed without you. So kiss me once, and kiss me twice, then kiss me once again—_Oh_!" she exclaimed.

Marian happened to turn, and saw him leaning against the door casing, eying her in quiet amusement. "I really think I shall," he purred slyly, in rich tones that never failed to make her nervous, excited, aroused-a veritable melted puddle of emotions.

Her cheeks reddened and she murmured ruefully, "I thought I cast a Silencing Spell…"

"Which is why I was forced to enter the room completely in order to hear your…performance," he replied sleekly, and his eyes glimmered at her with affection and playfulness.

She opened her mouth to defend herself, but decided against the futility of that move, and shrugged self-deprecatingly. "Well, you were bound to catch me sooner or later," she acknowledged wryly.

He nodded, his eyes still gleaming. Severus found that he enjoyed her many moods. He liked her when she was serious and intense, but his heart sang with joy whenever she was happy and lighthearted. She brought a sweetness into his life that he was unaccustomed to. It was a delight to have someone to laugh with, to share secrets with, to have someone genuinely interested in everything he did or said, who actually cared about the little things that happened to him, like whether his shoulder was throbbing or if he had gotten a good night's sleep. No one else had ever been bothered by those things. As long as he had fulfilled his duties in a timely manner, his personal struggles hadn't mattered to anyone. He had taught many classes exhausted and still slightly trembling from torture, and no one had ever noticed. But the wind had most certainly changed.

Marian wanted to hear about the book he was reading, the idea he had just had, his dreams, memories, feelings and opinions. She was his sounding-board, his comforter, his ally; and he found it to be a wonderful, miraculous, exhilarating thing, to stand preeminent in the heart and thoughts of another, especially a woman that was unselfish, and capable of a deep and honorable love.

Marian was excited, and moved lightly towards Severus, whose normal austerity was much mitigated by the soft, soulful way he was looking at her. She had gotten in touch with all of her family members, and had much to tell him. She had been waiting impatiently for the last hour and a half for him to exit the lab. A woman that had sometimes gone for years without any human physical contact now found it a difficult matter to refrain from touching Severus for a couple of hours. But touching him wasn't like touching other people. It was…a little hard to describe-like heaven, or eternity, or well,_ love_. And so Marian reached for him, gently taking his hands in order to draw him to her. To her consternation, she noticed his sluggish movements as he shifted his weight off the wall and took a step forward.

"Love, what have you been doing? You're exhausted!" she exclaimed in sudden concern.

At first, he thought to deny it, but the shrewd look in her eye made him realize that it would be useless to pretend, and so he didn't protest when she wrapped an arm around his trim waist and guided him down the hallway and into her bedroom, the threshold of which he had never ventured to cross—although that's not to say that he hadn't peeked in on occasion, consumed with curiosity. He hadn't been able to see much from the door, just a chest of drawers and the end of a four-poster bed.

But now that he was able to look around, however cursorily, he found it a lovely room, like an elvish bower; the bed was canopied with one great sheet of white gossamer, draped cleverly across the top and sides of the warm, hickory frame. Although the walls were creamy, just a shade paler than candlelight, he had an impression of the space being deliciously green. The color of the coverlet and curtains brought to mind new leaves-not that pastel, Easter candy-coating green that often passes for green in houses, or Kelly-green, that hideous shade considered to be so 'modern' when slathered all over the walls in American homes-but the green of real, living leaves, vibrant and soothing and wholesome. The space was sparse, but in an uncluttered sort of way that appealed to Severus. Passing through, he spotted a couple of paintings that looked rather interesting. He made a note to examine them later at his leisure.

She gently ushered him through to the balcony, magically opening the doors for him to pass out ahead of her. "It's too beautiful _not_ to sit outside," she said in explanation, and transfigured the deck chair to the exact replica of Severus' favorite recliner. The view from here was very different from the one in the room they shared together. Below them, a section of river passed a few dozen yards away. It was a beautiful mix of white foam, clear, greenish pools, and gleaming rock. He could hear the bubbling and dancing of the water as it crashed down the mountainside; and sinking into his seat, appreciated his new perch. He was ideally situated to enjoy the glorious weather, and to regain his strength for the afternoon. Today was a special day, and he planned to recover enough to spend the rest of it with Marian. Last night had been a turning-point, not only because of their declarations to each other, but because of the time they had spent outdoors. He instinctively knew that his seclusion had come to an end.

He made himself comfortable, although he disdained to recline his chair, wanting to enjoy the view of the river, and also because he secretly thought it looked silly when his robe-clad legs were propped up on the footrest. Marian arrived a few moments later with lunch for them both. She placed the tray on the table beside his chair and quickly produced a second seat, easing down beside him. The platter was filled with different components, all fresh and fragrant. Severus joined her in leisurely compiling a wrap, filling the tortilla with the different items. Marian was picky, and only selected the grilled chicken, lettuce, cheese, and guacamole, but Severus added tomatoes and peppers to his before salting the contents, adeptly rolling up his creation, and slicing it in half, in order to eat it more neatly. This was the second time that he had enjoyed this meal with her, and approved of it, thinking that it was a light and pleasant alternative to sandwiches.

A draught of Muggle coke washed down their meals. Severus had regarded this drink dubiously at first, but had found the taste interesting and delicious. As a potioneer, the fizz had intrigued him, and he had definite intentions of examining the liquid in his lab as soon as he finished his more pressing work. While they ate, Marian chatted to him about her conversations with her brothers and sister. They had been thrilled that their sister was going to be married, as they had never expected that their older sibling would find anyone to suit her. She confided merrily, "It turns out that their schedules are light during the summer, and their weekends mostly free. They said that whenever we pick a date, they will be sure to be there, although Elaine thinks we're crazy not to want to make it a big production….Anyway, I digress. They're all excited to meet you. I told them a little bit about you-"

"What did you tell them?" he interrupted, pausing with the tortilla chip in his hand poised over the cheese dip. He was terribly curious to hear how she had described him. He knew that he was a difficult person to explain, and yet the thought of her making excuses for him or glossing over his shortcomings troubled him.

She seemed to sense his concern and began slowly, "Well, I told them that you were magical—like me, but that your father had been a Muggle. I said that you were a scientist—they don't really get the 'Potions' thing—and that you had been a spy for twenty years. I told them how you had saved my life at least twice, and how brilliant and strong and sexy and brave and funny you are. And I said that I love you madly, and that I never want to spend another day away from you as long as I live."

Her eyes had grown large and soft as velvet with her words. She stood and began tidying up, preparing to bring the leftovers back to the kitchen. Severus made a move to rise, but she gently forestalled him with a hand on his shoulder and a meaningful look. He sighed, but had been the recipient of that look from her too many times not to know what it portended, and the utter uselessness of arguing. Passing by him, she bent to kiss his cheek and murmured, "I'm not ashamed of you—any part of you."

His gaze followed her as she vanished inside. Once she was gone, he muttered bemusedly, "You said I was _funny_?"

When she returned to find him still sitting upright, turning many things over in his agile mind, she teasingly reached down beside him and pulled the lever that reclined his seat. "I don't know what you were working on earlier that couldn't wait, but you look completely wrung out. Why don't you rest for a little while?"

She stood behind his chair and smoothed her hands over his shoulders and biceps in soothing motions, willing him to relax enough to go to sleep. Severus was markedly less irritable when he got enough rest, which was probably yet another reason why his disposition seemed so much cheerier with her than it ever had been during his time at Hogwarts.

He dozed for a while, and the sun was considerably lower in the sky when he awoke. He estimated that it was between three and four o'clock. Finding himself alone, he called out to Marian, but she didn't answer. There was not even a bark from Honey Bear that generally accompanied his voice whenever he called out. Sighing, he realized that she was probably outside somewhere, or perhaps singing again. That thought brought a smirk to his lips. She had looked so guileless, so adorable when he had walked in on her earlier.

Summoning a book, he decided to wait for her. Much of his strength had returned, and he began to think almost obsessively about the project he had been working on in the lab, second-guessing himself, reworking the spells in his mind. He had known for a long time now which ones he would use, and was actually quite satisfied with his work, but the wizard was a perfectionist, and knew that he would have only one chance to bring it to a satisfactory conclusion.

He didn't have to wait very long for her to return. She came outside quietly, scouting to see whether he was still asleep, and looked pleased and relieved to find him awake and watching her. Marian had an air of suppressed energy about her, and he raised an eyebrow. At the sight of his cool, inquisitive expression, she mused laughingly, "You always look so mysterious, even when doing the most mundane things."

"Where have you been?" he asked, letting her quip wash over him, but deciding not to respond to it.

"Oh, out and about…" she murmured coyly. She was toying with him, but couldn't keep the secret for long, and admitted, "Getting a Muggle marriage license."

She held the certificate out for his perusal, and teased nervously, "You didn't think I was going to let you get away, did you?"

Feeling galvanized by her news, Severus placed down his book and took the form from her, caressing her hand in the process. "'Good for thirty days,'" he read, before looking up at her and adding silkily, "I think we can manage to meet the deadline."

Marian could tell that he was feeling better. He had regained his customary unruffled, impertinent manner, and seemed relaxed rather than exhausted. Seeing that he was reasonably recovered, she decided to implement her original plan. "Would you like to get out of the house for a while? _Go on a date_?" she asked, feeling an unlooked-for pleasure at being able to ask him such a thing.

"We'll have to use the wheelchair, of course," she amended her statement in a rush, deciding to make that stipulation on the front end so that it would be more difficult for him to talk her out of it. He really could convince her of anything when he put his mind to it…_and that voice_.

Pausing, the ex-spy glanced up at her over the top of the form. "Is that so?" he inquired ironically, with a slightly raised eyebrow.

"Yes, but hear me out first," the witch answered winningly, as she strolled towards him with her shapely legs on display in a Caribbean blue, Muggle skirt and canvas sailing shoes.

"Very well," he replied curtly, although his dark eyes still rested on her smooth, silky calves.

Oblivious to his distraction, she said, "There's a good restaurant around here. It's a casual, Muggle steak-and-ribs joint, but the meat is delicious and the views from the deck tables are spectacular….If your vanity protests at rolling past Muggles in a wheelchair, we can cast a Notice-Me-Not spell or Muggle-Repelling charm until we're seated at the table, with the chair stowed. It might do us both good to get out of the house."

"That's very true. Let us go to this 'joint'," he replied in sardonic tones that made her snicker with laughter. Severus had acquiesced with surprisingly little trouble, and he allowed Marian to pick out his few items of Muggle clothing that had been retrieved from Hogwarts. A halfblood, he knew well how expedient it was to have that sort of thing on hand, especially since Spinner's End was located firmly in the Muggle world. The pickings were slim, but she managed to scrounge up a pair of charcoal-gray trousers, an undershirt, and a scratchy black wool sweater, which she transfigured to cashmere without telling him, although it hardly escaped his notice when he donned it, fingering the sinfully soft fabric with a secret smile.

When he reentered the living room, he found her ready to go, eying him in appreciation, though he couldn't fathom why, as he had spent a good part of the past thirty minutes examining himself in the mirror, with an eye that was more than critical. He knew well that there was little to admire when it came to his pale, wasted form. For Merlin's sake, he had gotten winded and been forced to sit down on the bed three separate times while dressing. In spite of his disgust with his looks, which had never satisfied him (or anyone else for that matter), this was the first time he had 'cleaned up' in quite a while, and even though he was only wearing Muggle attire, it was remarkable how much more capable and in control it made him feel.

To his surprise, the wizard found that he was quite looking forward to this excursion. It would be delightful to venture outdoors, and their walk the night before had only served to whet his appetite for movement and excitement. He had been inside for far too long. Sitting on the porch hardly counted as being out, Severus decided. Even though he possessed a somewhat reclusive nature, he had learned the hard way that it's rather unpleasant to be isolated. He had just finished spending a very bleak year ensconced in the headmaster's tower, with no one to confide in.

Life with Marian was lovely, but he had always been an adept observer of human interactions, and had had ample opportunity to employ this skill as a Potions professor. Even though Dumbledore had seemed to know everything that was going on in the school, and was a tough act to follow, Severus had still managed to consistently amaze the other teachers in the staffroom with the amount of information he had amassed about each child's doings. He had always been the first to detect crushes, conflicts, rule-breaking—in other words, all the trends in behavior that allowed him to piece together uncannily accurate profiles of each student. It was one reason why the children had found his criticisms so devastating, but also instructive.

"There's really no need for the chair, Marian. I haven't used it around the house for days," he complained, as she produced it and scanned his body dubiously with her eyes before meeting his glance. His heart wasn't really in his objection, as he knew very well that he needed the wheelchair after he had so thoroughly depleted his strength earlier, but it was against his nature to go down without a fight. After a lifetime spent as Dumbledore's lackey, he was more than familiar with the concept of a 'losing battle'. And yet, something inside him made it impossible to refrain from making his objections known. Marian seemed to know this as well, judging by the glimmer of a smile on her glossy, pretty lips.

"I know, but there might be more walking than we've counted on. The parking lot might be crowded….Please? I'd just feel safer…better," Marian explained.

It took a moment for her to notice that Severus had fixed her with the oddest stare. "Parking lot? Are we not Apparating?" he inquired, before adding drily, "Besides, if history has taught us anything, it is that I'm extraordinarily hard to kill."

And then he inclined his head slightly and amended his words, "Thanks to you."

Touched by the compliment, she donned a light jacket and joked, "You say the sweetest things….And no, we're not Apparating; we're driving. It'll be fun. You'll love the jeep."

He raised an eyebrow, but she grinned back at him in such genuine good-fellowship that he couldn't find it in him to be a wet blanket. They entered the garage, a part of the house that Severus had never explored before because he had wrongly assumed that the door led outside, judging by the slight draft he had felt coming from beneath it. The 'jeep' was a two-door vehicle with only two seats, painted a lovely sapphire. It had large tires and instantly recalled images of Muggle safaris to mind. All that was very well, but it had no top. There was nothing besides a windshield—no windows, roof—nothing between him and the elements. He shrugged. Severus levitated the wheelchair and stowed it in the back, before gazing impassively at the motorized Muggle contraption. Marian shot him a sidelong glance and asked, "Do you know how to drive?"

He shook his head, and so she helped him over to the passenger side of the jeep, where the step was somewhat steep, but not for someone with legs as long as his. "There's no need to hover," he murmured, but his gripe had no real force behind it. He rather enjoyed the way her hand floated protectively behind his back. He couldn't see her doing it as he climbed in, but he knew her.

Marian entered the driver's side and pressed her body against his as she leaned over to pull out the shoulder-strap of his seatbelt before he could attempt it, and wrench his damaged right side. She smelled so lovely up close, and it felt so divine to have the silky strands of her hair brushing against his skin that he failed to object to her 'babying'. After she secured herself, she asked, "Is this your first time in a Muggle vehicle?"

"No. As a child, I took the bus many times, and I vaguely remember a couple of taxi rides. Although this will be my first excursion in a Muggle personal vehicle….Why on earth do _you_ own one?" the bewildered wizard asked, with his long legs bent at an absurd angle, pressed uncomfortably against the dash.

She noticed his unease, and reached behind his left leg, releasing the catch that sent his seat jolting back several more inches, allowing him considerably more room. With an infectious smile, Marian murmured, "You'll see," and then she deftly wound a diaphanous scarf about her head, covering her hair, looking for all the world like a—very pretty—Arab trader. She offered one to him, and he raised an eyebrow as though it were the grossest insult. "Well, we have to keep your hair back somehow; otherwise it will blow everywhere and tangle horribly. Do you want to tie it back?" she inquired.

"I think not," he responded. He had an uneasy truce with his hair. The style he wore was unflattering, and he realized it, but he preferred the devil he knew. How much more ridiculous would he look with a ponytail, he wondered, before quickly deciding that he didn't want to know….If he was going to try out new hairstyles, it most certainly wouldn't be while he was on a date with_ the_ woman.

Fixing him with an amused, exasperated look, she wordlessly cast a spell. "What did you do?" he asked anxiously, because he still felt his loose hair brushing his cheekbones.

"Just cast a spell to keep it from tangling. It'll still be all in your eyes, though," she said, reaching up to tuck it gently behind his ear, straying there just a moment too long.

As she backed out of the carport, they soon felt the wet crunch of the gravel under the tires. And then they were off, soaring down the steep hillsides and around the turns, both the smooth, gentle curves and the heart-stoppingly abrupt ones. The anemic wizard's black hair blew about him in untamed splendor, and he inhaled great lungfuls of the delicious breeze that one can only find at sunset, in the mountains, when it is not quite summer anymore, but not yet autumn. The stunning vistas were spread about below them as they careened down the mountain trails, and Marian reached out with her free hand and gently clasped his. Watching her glance up at him, her features transformed with happiness and affection, the spy couldn't help but mirror those emotions.

Severus felt a growing sense of wonder that this could be his life. He had never been a part of anything that made him feel understood and appreciated—not his family, his House, the teaching staff at Hogwarts, the Order, or the Death Eaters. He had never been able to escape a sense that he didn't really belong, that he wasn't really one of them. The Potions Master had always thought of himself as rather eclectic, but had found no real kindred spirit—not even among other clever people. His reputation for not suffering fools preceded him, and most wrote him off as sour (and possibly dangerous). And he was both those things, but perhaps he would not have been such a killjoy had he been included occasionally….He shook off the thought. He was well on his way to brooding, and an evening as mild and magical as this shouldn't be marred by sinking into a black mood.

Besides, he felt worlds away from his old life, a life filled with petty, hollow triumphs and cataclysmic failures interspersed with scoldings and disapproval. He knew that it was his own fault that he had been relegated to the dreary, constant activity-dull years occasionally punctuated by excruciating pain and heart-stopping terror. Severus was not the sort of man to make excuses for himself or blame others for his mistakes. He had hated the Marauders and felt ashamed of his poverty and loveless home, but he didn't see himself as a product of his environment, but as someone that had brought about his unpleasant destiny through the actions of his own misdirected will.

Marian saw that he had slipped far away into the realm of his own thoughts, and she softly touched his knee, pulling him back from the brink, and causing him to focus on his surroundings once again. With a smile on her lips, she pointed off into the distance and mouthed, "Look, you can see the town."

Severus followed her finger with his eyes and noticed a great basin ringed with small blue mountains slightly off to the east. The bowl brimmed with lights, and he could see that they belonged to a small city, which was evidently their destination. "Beautiful, isn't it?" she asked.

He made a noncommittal sound, but his eyes devoured the glittering oasis, and the gray-blue hills that framed it like a gorgeous jewel. The sun was just setting behind the mountains as they pulled into the parking lot of the bustling restaurant, and the orange fingers licked over them and left irregular shadows on the blacktop. Severus exited the car carefully and quickly, before she had the opportunity to come around and assist him. When Marian reached his side, she made a motion as though to remove the wheelchair, but desisted in response to a look from Severus. "It's not far," he murmured.

Marian acquiesced. He could be almost impossible to refuse when he put his mind to it. She wondered how Dumbledore had managed it all those years. Severus taciturnly held out his arm and she took it, enjoying the feel of his supple strength under the softness of his sweater. He held the door for her as they entered the restaurant, and the two were met with warm lights and the delicious aroma of meat grilled to perfection. The lady that led them outside to the vast tiered balcony struck Severus as a little…mad. Her skin was a rich black, and the myriad braids composed of ebony interwoven with shimmering, ruby-red hairs bristled like a rich headdress. She sang a nonsensical refrain to herself as she led them to their table, which sat upon an unoccupied deck, and was illuminated by the glow of the setting sun.

Severus raised an eyebrow at Marian over the waitress' odd conduct. He was very proper, and flamboyant displays left him feeling vaguely uncomfortable. Marian understood this about him, and, as soon as the woman wandered off, stroked his long fingers and murmured, "That's Wanda. She owns the place. I know what you're thinking, but she makes the best dry-rub barbecue you'll ever put in your mouth, and so she can get away with being a little…eccentric. We're actually quite lucky to have an area to ourselves. The restaurant is normally packed to the brim on Saturday night, but we've managed to beat the evening rush. Trust me, darling, you're going to love the food."

"If you say so," he answered tetchily, but he was the picture of cool composure when Wanda returned, and he placed both of their orders.

His aloofness seemed to amuse the restaurant's proprietor, because she fixed Marian with her large, mirthful eyes and exclaimed, "Tell your man I'm not gonna bite him. He looks kinda worried."

The wizard compressed his lips in annoyance, accepting the boisterous woman's amusement at his expense as graciously as possible, but growing more irritable by the second. Severus was by no means humorless, but he had spent far too long being the butt of others' jokes and had grown a bit touchy. Marian smiled up at the waitress and said wryly, "He's not. He's been bitten by worse."

At this remark, Wanda threw back her head and laughed uproariously, thinking that Marian referred to herself. "That's right, sugar. Men need us to give them a hard time. I like you. Am going to cook your ribs real good," she proclaimed, sashaying back to the kitchen to relay their order, but not before favoring Severus with a rakish wink.

"This is intolerable," he murmured hotly, once he found himself alone with Marian. She responded to his adorably indignant expression with a soft smile and murmured, "I can't believe that things are so different—that we can be together. It's nice not to have to scale tall towers and infiltrate island prisons for the pleasure of your company…_sugar_."

He huffed gently and retorted, "Last I checked, the infernal woman used that particular endearment to refer to you….But putting her aside for the moment, it _is_ nice to be together, without having to look over our shoulders every second."

Severus nursed his wine in silence for a few moments, prompting Marian to say, "I'm sorry if I embarrassed you—with what I said to the waitress."

"Embarrassed? I was nothing of the sort. It's just…" he trailed off, fingering his heavy, inelegant glass with a hint of disdain.

"What?" she prodded, after he grew silent, and seemed as though he would say nothing else.

"It was actually quite tactful of her not to mention the obvious state of my neck," he finished in a different voice, leaving Marian with the certainty that he hadn't said what he had originally intended to say.

In low, affectionate tones, she said, "You don't need to guard your words with me, _spy_. I will never hold them against you."

"I know that. It's just…my way," he murmured, and from his manner, she could tell that he was a little aggravated, but couldn't tell if it was at her or himself. The problem was that he had spent a lifetime carefully choosing his expressions, trusting no one enough to expose himself completely. A handful of times, his natural passion had gotten the better of him and he had overflowed with words, revealing the extent of his feelings. But as a rule, Severus Snape was as hard to pin down as quicksilver. And no one had ever plumbed his depths—not Dumbledore, not Lily Potter, and not Voldemort. Marian had seen as much of him as he had ever allowed anyone to see, and had been around him at his most vulnerable, but she was well aware that he still carried many, many secrets.

He placed his wine down and looked at her apologetically, "I'm afraid you're going to have a tough time of it with me," he said softly.

She scoffed at this and confided confidently, "Nevertheless, we're going to be desperately happy together."

"What makes you say that?" he asked, placing his drink down and slipping into philosopher-mode.

"Because besides the fact that we love, respect, and trust each other, we're both very versatile people. We're not going to get bored in this marriage, and we're adaptable enough to accommodate each other's idiosyncrasies….And your neck looks thousands of times better, by the way," Marian said matter-of-factly.

Dumbledore had been right about Severus. He had told her that the dark-haired wizard needed someone willing to go the extra mile for him. Marian had long ago learned that the best way to deal with her man was to be patient and willing to persuade him out of his funk with logic. And even as her arguments lured him out of his mind's dark, labyrinthine passages, her affection and the fact that she was taking time to make him feel better soothed that unconscious, emotional part of him that ran even deeper.

Changing the subject, she asked brightly, "So, have anywhere in mind for a honeymoon? Let me know if you like this idea. I was thinking that we could stay at our house for a few days directly after the wedding because we won't be disturbed there…" she trailed off beguilingly, her eyes flickering to his, before she added in normal tones, "But after that, maybe we could vacation somewhere. I hear the Bay Islands off Honduras are lovely this time of year—they're alongside the second longest reef in the world, and are considerably less crowded than most other Caribbean Islands. But I want to do what pleases you. We can go anywhere, or nowhere at all….What do you think?"

Clearly, Severus hadn't considered this before. It was difficult for him to grasp that travel was an option for him now. He had spent far too many years as Dumbledore's parolee, and had done most of his exploring through books. He had spent two years in France for his Potions mastery, but during that time he had been afire with ambition, and had barely left the lab. He had visited nowhere else, and he still remembered how he had felt as a child when, after having spent a lonely holiday at the school, he had met his triumphant classmates returning at the end of the break, refreshed and boasting about their fabulous vacations to the far corners of the globe.

He took a little too long to reply, and Marian thought that he must be displeased with her suggestion, and thinking of a way to let her down gently. Undismayed, she continued, "If you prefer that we stay put, there's no need to go anywhere. Although it's beginning to grow cold here, and it would be nice if you could spend some time recuperating in a warm, mild climate.

"Severus, have you ever been to French Polynesia? Just think of it-the far side of the world. Over a hundred remote islands, spread over a million square miles of the bluest ocean you've ever seen. Black pearls, trade winds—no venomous snakes or insects, incidentally—and sunsets so glorious that they'll make you weep with the absolute wonder of it all. And if all that's not enough for you, there's still sand and sea and me," Marian added impishly.

His eyes warmed as he began to entertain the possibility. "I never thought that I-" he began, but quickly amended what he had been going to say, adding urbanely, "You've convinced me. It sounds idyllic."

"It will be," she purred playfully, reaching across the table to stroke his hand. Wanda had brought the food, a great platter piled with racks of smoky ribs, falling off the bone. She looked as exuberant as she had earlier, but noticed the way they were holding hands and speaking softly and affectionately to each other, and so she refrained from interrupting them to tease Severus.

Severus delicately cut off a few ribs and added them to Marian's plate, and then some to his own. He ate as neatly as possible, using his knife and fork. She smiled at his primness, and tore one of the bones from the others with deliberate care, and then used her teeth to strip off the meat, taking small, neat bites that Severus found rather savage and sensual at the same time. After a few moments of watching her, the normally fastidious wizard finally ventured to cast aside his inhibitions. He shrugged, abandoning his silverware and following suit.

"My, my, Severus. How barbaric," Marian teased.

"When in Rome…or, should I say, _Appalachia_…" he smirked, shrugging nonchalantly. Marian noticed that he always shrugged with his left shoulder. But he was finally mending at a decent rate, which was an incredible relief to her.

They ate in silence for a few moments, savoring the truly remarkable flavors of the food, and then Severus said, in a blasé tone that did nothing to hide the fact from Marian that he had been giving the matter some serious thought, "You were saying last night that your remaining family members don't know much about your magic. But if you have little to talk to them about, why not share that part of your life with them? You're quite good at Transfiguration. I'm sure that your sisters-in-law wouldn't object if you offered to help them magically enhance their wardrobes."

Whenever Severus saw that something could be improved, his scientific mind itched to provide a solution. He could tell that Marian wasn't completely content with the way things were between her and her brothers and sister. He regarded her as his intellectual equal, and his respect for her knew no bounds, but had decided to advise her anyway, since he was clever enough to realize that people can be adept at solving the problems of others, while unequal to tackling their own.

It was apparent to him that she continued to follow the directives her parents had set down to her as a child about not flaunting her magic in front of her brothers and sister, so that they wouldn't feel left out or uncomfortable, but now she was grown, and it was time for her to adopt a different tactic. By concealing her world and true identity from them, she only drifted further away. Also, Severus realized that he was inescapably magical, and that his presence on the scene would alienate her from them even further if she didn't let them into her world just a little bit. Never having had a real family, he understood how lonely and miserable it was to be cut off from support. If anything ever happened to him, he wanted her to retain her family for comfort and help.

She blinked at him in surprise, and then she began laughing at him in wonder. "What is it?" he asked self-consciously, his feathers slightly ruffled as he wondered if he had committed some gaffe, since he was uncertain as to what had amused her.

"What you just said—it's _perfect_. But it was unexpected…not that you're not brilliant, because you are, but I just didn't expect you to know so much about women. I mean, you understand _me_, but I guess I didn't realize that you're such a psychologist. It seems that I'm always discovering some new talent of yours," she explained in a rush, her words slowing as she regained her footing.

He didn't reply to her last comment, but the heated, lascivious glance he shot her from under his lids relayed more clearly than words the thoughts he was having when it came to Marian 'discovering his new talents'. She replied to his silent riposte by murmuring caressingly, "You scoundrel."

He acknowledged her words by raising his glass to his lips in a mocking toast. Marian had been right about the restaurant being popular, because it had somehow completely filled while they were talking. With the onset of darkness, people had arrived in hordes, happily chattering families, boisterous companies of friends, and a few quiet couples, whose desire for privacy was to go as unanswered as hers and Severus'. But the steady business at least spared Severus another fencing match with Wanda. She did not approach them again, and a younger, considerably more subdued woman took over their table. The two had polished off the first bottle of wine, and Severus motioned to the server.

"But Severus, we drove!" Marian exclaimed, _sotto voce_.

He leaned forward as though he would whisper something important. "We're _wizards_," he confided in a whisper.

"True," she murmured ruefully, as though that fact was just dawning on her.

"Another," he said again, more decisively. The waitress nodded and moved off with alacrity.

Neither Marian nor Severus ever had much to drink. They were suspicious people, wary of alcohol's tongue-loosening properties, but they trusted each other more than they ever had anyone else, and were in a celebratory mood. And so she shrugged and tilted her glass towards him, and he filled it.

Severus was a livewire tonight, in excellent spirits for one of the few times in his life. He was exciting and compelling and his good humor was infectious. He had a gift for relating the day-to-day workings of Hogwarts in a way that made them sound absolutely hilarious. She laughed until her sides hurt as he described the infuriating things he had put up with during his time as a professor.

Severus' eyes sparkled with happiness as he saw how much she was enjoying his stories. He had frequently been rebuked for his irony-laced comments and descriptions by Dumbledore and his colleagues, who had taken his deadpan remarks to be evidence of pessimism and a bad attitude rather than his natural humor. But Marian_ got_ him. Instead of chastising him, she loved the way he spoke, finding his anecdotes witty and hysterically funny. Her laughter at his stories was honest and rich, and it did him all the good in the world. Severus had always thought that he must have a problem, that he was too abrasive and sour for anyone to enjoy talking to him. And he had certainly never thought that he could be funny and charismatic, but he was beginning to reevaluate. Perhaps, he thought with a shy hope, he had just never met anyone before that truly understood him.

In any case, the two had endured an extraordinarily awful year, and letting down their hair did them tremendous good. As they polished off the last of the wine, Severus placed the Muggle money down on the table and prepared to help her rise. Marian didn't move from her seat, but stage-whispered, "Severus, I think I'm feeling it."

He smirked in answer and held out a pale hand. She took it with a rueful smile, and soon they were strolling arm-in-arm, with her leaning slightly against him, through the parking lot and bundling into the jeep. They looked at each other expectantly for a few moments and she said, as if for clarification, "I shouldn't drive."

With a soft snort, he murmured, "No. You most certainly_ shouldn't_."

"Well, _you_ can't drive," she said cheekily, before suddenly leaning over for a deep kiss, which he responded to with fervor and his own brand of indefinable sensuality that was more heady and promising than anything she had ever experienced before. _Sirius Black had nothing on Severus; no one had anything on Severus_, Marian thought, as she met his soft lips again, and again, and again. In between hot kisses, Severus somehow managed to murmur something, and Marian pulled away, eliciting a soft groan from her companion. "What'd you say?" she asked breathlessly.

"That we can Apparate," he answered drily, at least the tone was dry, although Severus lost a little of its cool effect by the way his eyes glowed as they watched her. There was a need in them that was savage in its intensity, and Marian felt an unmistakable tingling and rush of heat in response to it, and retreated back into her seat. But they both had a pleasant buzz from the alcohol, and it took very little to amuse them again. In response to a stray thought, she admonished, "I'll move the car. You take care of your wheelchair," and then began snickering as if she had just said the most hilarious thing in the world.

The corner of Severus' mouth twitched, and, before he knew it, Marian had clasped his hand and Apparated the two of them and the jeep to the middle of their carport. She looked up at him with round eyes and exclaimed, "I didn't know I had it in me!"

Her expression of genuine surprise was so comical that it didn't even occur to Severus to scold her for her potentially dangerous move. The two entered the house, laughing as they hadn't laughed in years, and clinging to one another, stopping at intervals for Severus to press her against the wall and kiss her thoroughly, while she slipped her hands under his sweater and roamed feverishly all over his bare skin, moaning softly as his leg slid between hers and he enthusiastically tasted her neck.

When they finally made it all the way back to the den, and tumbled gracelessly onto the couch, they noticed that the fire was flaring up. "Someone's flooing us," she exclaimed in dismay, removing both of her hands from his hair to twist towards the hearth.

He gave a soft sigh of displeasure as Marian rose to her feet, and she tried to reassure him by adding confidently, "Don't worry. I'll get rid of whoever it is."

She knelt in front of the fireplace and met the pixyish features of Tonks, whose shock of brilliantly pink hair looked oddly fluorescent in the light of the fire. "Marian, where have you been? I've been Flooing you on and off for the past hour," Tonks declared testily.

Not for the first time, it occurred to Marian that wizard modes of communication left something to be desired. But, then again, if Tonks _did_ have a cell phone, she would have used it to interrupt dinner with Severus. Perhaps wizards were on to something, after all, she thought, and was tempted to crack up with amusement at her own thoughts, but something about Tonks' serious expression forestalled her.

"Is something the matter?" she asked in sudden consternation.

Slightly exasperated, Tonks replied, "I should say so. _Come through_."

"Now?" Marian asked in dismay. Tonks raised an eyebrow in response. Marian wanted to spend the rest of the night with Severus. They had been having such a good time together, and it was a special evening for them. But if something was wrong with her friend, then it was her duty to go and try to fix the problem. She already felt guilty for how she had abandoned everyone for the past several months while she had been single-mindedly focused on nursing Severus back to health—not that she would have done anything differently. If she had lost him…Marian shook her head, trying to dispel the grotesque thoughts that still leapt out at her when given half a chance.

"Give me a minute and I'll come through," Marian said resignedly.

Satisfied, Tonks nodded and prepared to end their connection, but not before her friend added as an afterthought, "By the way, where are you? Your apartment?"

"No, Grimmauld Place. See you in a minute," she responded, before withdrawing from the fireplace. Marian stared at the fire for a moment after she left, and thought that it didn't look as pretty without the vivid pink of Tonks' coif mixed in with the flames like an island sunset. Smiling to herself, it occurred to her that _everything_ was making her think of her approaching honeymoon.

She stood up, still a little unsure on her feet, but infinitely more sober than she had been before her conversation, and met the inquisitive dark eyes of Severus, as he leaned against the wall, where he had halted in indecision on the way to their bedroom to change clothes as soon as he heard Marian say something about going out. "Was that Nymphadora?" he asked in even tones, which she suspected concealed a great deal of contempt, but she had to give him credit for not making it obvious.

"Yes," she sighed, "She wants me to meet her. She says that something's wrong, but she won't tell me what it is."

"Surely it can't be anything serious, or she would have relayed it while she had you as a captive audience," he objected, in tones laced with acid.

Marian reached up and stroked his cheek, which was still sunken despite her efforts to help him regain his health, and murmured, "You know that I have to go, love. I'll be back soon."

"Where exactly _are_ you going?" he asked, while surreptitiously glancing down to make sure she was wearing the bracelet that she had turned into a portkey. When he caught himself instinctively checking for it, he wondered that he hadn't thought of portkeying home from the restaurant. But he didn't have to look far for an answer. Her kisses had really done a number on him, he admitted to himself with a flush.

"Grimmauld Place," she answered casually, as she gathered a handful of Floo powder. Marian was turned away from him, and didn't see the way he scowled and his lips reflexively formed the word 'No'. But the former spy had enough self-restraint to keep from actually voicing his dismay.

Marian popped out on the other side and found herself once again in the richly-furnished and dimly-lit Black drawing-room. With a little flutter in her heart, she remembered that this was the very place she had first observed Severus—although it hardly looked the same as it had then. Tonks reclined indolently on the leather sofa and regarded her with satisfaction when she stepped through. It was obvious that she had been gazing into the flames with impatience a moment before Marian had arrived. She was a lot like Sirius. They were both vibrant, active people that enjoyed movement and excitement and were easily bored in situations that lacked these two vital components.

Dusting herself off, Marian truly looked at her friend for the first time in months and noticed several things about her. Tonks looked thinner and older, but softer somehow. She had always been vivid and sharp, like a piece of multicolored glass, but now she had a weathered, thoughtful air about her. It occurred to Marian that she seemed a bit more like Remus. But as she took in her friend's features, still endearingly familiar even with the few alterations, Marian inexplicably felt a lump in her throat. In a voice flooded with warmth and sincerity, she confessed, "It's good to see you Tonks. It's been a long time."

At this, the strain between them seemed to melt away, and Tonks took a step forward and wrapped Marian in a tight hug. In spite of her effortless intimacy with Severus, Marian still felt awkward when it came to showing affection to others. She didn't know why this should be, but found herself patting Tonks' thin shoulder uncomfortably, until her friend released her and murmured laughingly, "You haven't changed at all."

"That's highly doubtful," she answered in sardonic tones that were remarkably like Severus'. Tonks peered at her festive friend more closely.

"Wait a minute….You _have_ changed. More than I expected. You look…radiant and….Marian, have you been _drinking_? Things are so much worse than I thought!" she exclaimed, scandalized by the possibility that her friend might be overindulging to escape the pain of losing Severus Snape.

"What's wrong with taking a drink every now and then? You and I have done it often enough….In any case, I'm perfectly sober…_now_," she replied defensively.

Marian's head was clear, although she still felt a warm glow, but that could have been caused by Severus rather than the alcohol, she thought with a secret smile. Tonks ushered her friend to sit beside her and then turned towards her, propping her small feet on the couch and slightly wedging them between the cushions. With her arms wrapped around her knees, there was something endearingly pixyish about her posture and the curious way her large, bright brown eyes surveyed her.

Slightly unnerved by her friend's assessing glance, Marian tried to change the course of the conversation by commenting, "So, you guys live here now?"

Tonks laughed humorlessly to herself and explained, "We've been staying with Sirius a lot. The apartment isn't the greatest fit for Remus….We're shopping around for houses. And believe me, the sooner we find something, the better!"

She winced after her last words, and Marian realized that she hadn't intended to say them. Tonks did that a lot, but somehow her verbal slips never seemed to detract from her charm. "Missing your privacy?" she asked sympathetically.

Her friend ran a lean hand through her pink locks, which looked more feathery than spiked these days, huffed and blurted, "You can say _that_ again! I love Sirius, but you know what an overwhelming personality he has, and Remus does whatever he wants him to do! They're off together right now!"

"Pub-crawling?" Marian inquired.

"No!" Tonks exclaimed, "They're out_ fishing_. In_ Ireland_. In the _middle _of the_ night_. For magical _Wels catfish_. Do you have any idea how dangerous those are?"

Dodging the last question, to which the answer was obviously an emphatic _yes_, as they had been rumored to have swallowed a great number of Muggles during the Middle Ages, Marian objected, "And Remus enjoys this?"

"He does if Sirius tells him he does," Tonks spat, before wincing at her own words and saying in a softer, gentler tone, "I just miss my husband. From the way I was talking about him, it sounds like I don't respect him. But Marian, I do….Remus has such a kind heart, and he finds it really hard to say no to my cousin. Sirius is lonely, and he maneuvered Remus into agreeing for us to stay here until we found a more suitable home. I was fine with the move, but it's just everything….

"Sirius has all these _plans_ for the two of them. He tries to involve Harry, but he's too busy with his new romance with Ginny, and so Remus has to be all-in-all to him. I spend time with the two of them, and I enjoy it, don't get me wrong. They're so funny together—they feed off each other in the most wonderful way. But they're always talking about their schooldays, and I'm the obvious third wheel…which is _fine_, but I just wish it wasn't always the three of us. I had all these dreams for my future with Remus, but Sirius' plans seem to always trump mine. He is trying to talk him into starting a business with him-a sort of emergency recovery team, so that people that get in over their heads with spells and magical creatures can call them to undo the damage, instead of going to the Ministry and having a record of their _incident_ on file."

Marian thought this a pretty astute idea, and secretly applauded Sirius for seeing a need and developing a way to make money from it. If the Ministry had competition in the private sector, she had no doubt that most people would prefer the discretion and skills of Sirius and Remus—once their reputations were established, of course—to the embarrassment of going to the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad, which answered to the officials in the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes. Sirius and Remus were both exceptionally talented wizards, and she had no doubt that their combined knowledge covered a great many different areas of magic. They would make excellent consultants and work well together, balancing each other out. There was also something to be said for Remus being self-employed. It was the perfect solution for a man juggling a baby, a wife working as a full-time Auror, and a 'furry little problem'. But Tonks seemed frazzled and Marian had the feeling that she wouldn't appreciate her pointing these things out to her. She also had a hunch that the men had enumerated them to her already.

"Can you _believe_ that? But before they become 'Spell-Busters' or the 'Happily Ever After Squad' or The Conjoined Arses or whatever they intend to call themselves, Sirius wants the two of them to take a motorcycle tour of Europe," Tonks exclaimed, and Marian noticed for the first time that her eyes were bloodshot. Her friend was obviously exhausted. Perhaps Teddy was colicky. Marian hadn't asked.

"A _tour_. Of _Europe_. By _motorbike_," Tonks said, her voice rising with hysteria.

The American made a sound of comfort, and hesitantly reached over to press her friend's hand. At her kind gesture, suddenly Tonks broke down in tears, "How could he even_ think_ of going? We have a new baby, and Teddy cries_ all the time_. I'm all by myself. _You're_ gone. Remus is gone. My parents come around some, but they won't hear a word against Sirius. Dad really bonded with him when he had to stay at Grimmauld Place during all that Muggle-born Registration garbage. I'm just so _frustrated_!"

Marian's mind immediately leapt to solving the problem, and she spoke up, her generosity temporarily blinding her to the potential offensiveness of her words, "We need to find Sirius a woman. But obviously, the first thing you need to do is get your own place. I never gave you a baby gift, and so the Glastonbury house is all yours. I don't need it, and it's sitting completely empty. It's not huge, but it has three bedrooms and a nice yard. You could sell it later, but at least you would have a private place to live while you make your plans-"

"I don't need you to give me a house! I don't need gifts or money!" her friend exploded indignantly, "I need you to be my_ friend_!"

Abashed, Marian glanced down and muttered, "I'm sorry….You're right, of course. But you_ have_ to understand that I _couldn't_ come before."

Sighing, Tonks relented for the moment, but had clearly not finished telling Marian her thoughts on her disappearance. Speaking softly and feelingly, she declared, "I don't mean to be harsh with you. It was very sweet of you to offer to give me that house, but you know I can't accept it. Money isn't our problem. We can afford a down-payment on a very nice house right now, and I have excellent credit. But it's going to be hard to dislodge Remus from Grimmauld Place. I think he likes staying here. His life took a pretty drastic downturn after he left school, and being here with Sirius helps him feel young and happy again….I just wish that_ I_ were the one making him feel like that. But it's okay. Things will get better. I'll work it out."

Tonks sounded as though she was trying to convince herself. She paused for a moment and chewed the sparkling silver nail on her forefinger before catching herself and saying, "Look….I know you don't want to hear what I'm about to say, but I don't see a way around the topic. It's the proverbial elephant in the room. The thing is, I'm sorry that I didn't seem very sympathetic before when we talked about…Snape. I didn't know what to say to you and sometimes I get overly bright and cheerful when I'm out of my comfort zone…and I come off like I don't care. But I _do_!"

Marian shook her head and put up a hand to forestall her friend's torrent of words, but Tonks would have none of it and admitted, in tones charged with urgency, "I've tried so hard to find him for you, and to catch the ones that took him….I thought it would give you some closure. I haven't been on active duty since the baby came, but whenever I've had the chance, I've gone to the office and talked to other Aurors, trying to find out if they had caught a scent. I've interviewed Death Eaters, and learned…horrifying things, but not about what I was interested in. It's shocking that no one seems to know _anything_. I've never seen anything like it. There have been absolutely no leads.

"We've interviewed Umbridge over and over. Skeeter's obviously innocent, and Umbridge didn't physically take him from Azkaban. There's no record of anyone named 'Metis', which is obviously a pseudonym. I looked it up in the dictionary and found out that it means someone of 'mixed blood'. So we may not be looking at Death Eaters at all, but people on our side with a vendetta. Snape had a lot of enemies in both camps. He was really high profile-a perfect white whale for both sides to target. Since no one was sure at the end which side he was on, both groups assumed he was a traitor. But anyway, we're turning up nothing. This case is a dead end. It's been driving me crazy. I wanted to have something to give you when we finally met again, but then so much time passed...Marian, what you're doing—it's not healthy. You have to let him go."

She felt surprised and touched by her friend's relentless efforts on her behalf, which she had continued even as she had so many other matters to contend with, and Tonks had never even liked Severus. Marian felt ashamed of herself then. She had always underrated Tonks, unable to see past her dislike of the spy. But there was so much more to the pink-haired Auror than her (probably well-merited) antipathy for Severus Snape. Tonks was a loyal friend, a more faithful friend than Marian had been to her-_that_ much was certain, she thought with a flinch.

It felt like her throat had closed, and tears were threatening to build up on the ever-dry surface of her eyes. Unwilling to deal with the emotions coursing through her, Marian changed the subject, affecting a light, careless mien, "So where's little Teddy? I've been dying to meet him."

When Tonks began staring at her as though she had just started speaking Mandarin, Marian added nervously, "You look really good…shockingly good, considering that hardly any time has passed since you had your baby."

Not one to beat around the bush, Tonks eyed her friend levelly and said, "Actually, quite a bit of time has passed since I had Teddy. And this is the first time I've seen you, in all that time."

Marian flinched, and murmured ironically, "This is an intervention, isn't it?"

Tonks didn't answer, but fixed her with a forceful gaze and continued inexorably, as though her friend had said nothing, "I practically had to drag you here tonight. I don't blame you, and I'm not angry. I know that it devastated you when _he_ died, but your friends will help you get through this. By locking yourself away from the world and…and _drinking_, you're not going to feel better. Come back to the people that care about you. Me and Remus, Sirius and Harry and the Weasleys….Stop keeping us at arm's length! The war is over, and so how critical can this project you've been working on be? You've been hiding behind it, and we miss you."

"No, you don't understand. There's a reason for everything I've been doing-," Marian began, trying to gather her thoughts to defend herself. It seemed like the time had finally come to tell her secret.

But then Tonks threw another curveball. She eyed Marian pityingly, realizing that her friend still wasn't in the right mindset to seek help. She said deliberately, "Teddy's upstairs—finally sleeping, thank the Merciful Lord….I asked you here to see if you wanted to be his godmother."

Stunned, Marian just stared at her, and leaned slowly back against the leather. Stung by her friend's overly-long pause, Tonks snapped haughtily, "I understand that you're probably not interested in babies, but it wouldn't hurt for you to think about someone besides yourself. Snape wouldn't want you to cut yourself off from the world, to stop living-"

Gently breaking in, Marian said soothingly, "Tonks, don't! …It's a great honor, and one I hadn't expected. I accept, of course. But I have something to tell you, and you may wish to withdraw your offer once I do."

Laughing somewhat bitterly, Tonks murmured, "Are you kidding me?"

Fixing her with her magnetic bluish gaze, Marian said forcefully, "_Severus_ is alive."

Tonks' jaw went slack for a moment and then she cupped her hand behind one of her delicate, triple-pierced ears and said, "Could you say that again? Look, I know that we haven't found his body, but that's hardly unusual in the magical world. Considering the circumstances of his kidnapping, it seems unlikely that—"

Frustrated, Marian shook her head and said, "No, no, _no_! I'm not just being overly optimistic. He_ is_ alive. I know that because _I'm_ the one that kidnapped him….I took him home with me to America, and he was horribly wounded. _That's_ why I've been so hard to get a hold of. I'm sorry that I haven't been the friend that you deserve, but I just couldn't leave him. Even now that he's so much better, it still kills me to be away from him. You just don't know what he looked like…how close I almost came to losing him. He's still frail and far from completely recovered, but he's lots better now. Tonight we left the house together for the first time. We went out to dinner...We're getting married, Tonks."

In shock, Tonks stared down at her hands in disbelief, before finally looking back up at Marian and murmuring, "_How_ did you do it? He was in _Azkaban_...Tell me everything."

She was glad to oblige. As she brought her story to a close, she said, "So we're in love, and getting married as soon as possible. Please don't tell anyone that he's alive. He hasn't gone to the Ministry to show himself yet."

"I won't. Merlin, Marian. That is quite a story. I guess I never completely realized how much he meant to you. I thought that he was just a phase—a bit of novelty. He's kind of frightening, so strict and sharp and standoffish, with that prowling, intelligent, predatory way. But I guess a brave woman might find that exciting, rather than scary. I don't know," she murmured dubiously.

Marian scoffed and said, "I don't know that bravery has anything to do with it. I know that he's dangerous, but not to me. In fact, I feel so wonderfully safe and cared for. It's the most comforting feeling in the world, having a man like him on my side….That day I went into the Veil after Sirius was one of the worst days of my life. It was terrifying and grotesque and…just awful. But when I saw Severus come striding up the path, I felt this rush of peace and warmth and joy…._That's_ what I feel when I look at him—every time. Things aren't strained between us. He's not harsh with me. We're better people together than we ever were separately.

"He's going to be my husband, and that's why I was telling you that you might want to withdraw your offer. If you make me godmother, and something happens to you and Remus, then Severus would be Teddy's stepfather. I doubt your husband would like that….Who is his god_father_, by the way?"

With a rather guilty look, Tonks said, "No, you're right. Remus _wouldn't_ like that. Hell,_ I_ wouldn't like it. And I can only imagine how Snape would feel if he had to raise Remus' child….That disappoints me.

"Sirius is godfather, but I don't know if he would give Teddy a stable home. I'm not sure what sort of woman he will end up with. I don't have a lot of girlfriends—and none that would be suitable surrogate mothers for my baby. My parents are getting older and they're not really up for raising another child, although they would if they had to, of course….I know that you don't think you'll have children, but you'd be a wonderful mother. I've seen the way you are with Ms. Bear and the Weasley kids. You're very nurturing."

Marian made a dismissive hand gesture, exclaiming self-consciously, "No, I'm not!"

Tonks snickered. "Yes, you are. You may not want to admit it, but you know it as well as I. It may not be your plan to raise dozens of babies, but you have a great capacity for love. You would cherish a little child, even if he wasn't yours," she explained.

"I would, but so would most people. Listen, if anything ever happens to you, I'll do whatever I can to make sure no harm comes to Teddy. But I think that Sirius will settle down soon. He's not as young as he used to be and he desperately needs someone to love. He has the potential to be a good father….I just think that Remus and Sirius would have a stroke at the idea of Severus raising Teddy. And frankly, I think Severus might have one too, and I've worked really hard to get him as healthy as he is," Marian said with a hint of laughter in her tone.

Changing the subject abruptly, she said, "You're invited to stand up with me at the wedding, of course. It's just going to be immediate family. We haven't set a date yet, but it's going to be sometime in the next couple of weeks…hopefully."

Tonks' eyes glimmered with mirth at the thinly-veiled desperation in Marian's tone. "Haven't slept with him yet, is that it?" she asked knowingly.

"No. We're waiting until we're married, and to be honest, it's driving me _out of my mind_. I can barely concentrate on anything with him in the house with me, and then when we go to bed—well, that takes it to the next level," she confessed.

"You guys sleep in the same bed? Wow, you must really enjoy torturing yourself..._and _him," Tonks commented wickedly.

Marian scoffed. "No, that's not it at all. It's just that….I panic a little bit at the thought of going somewhere else to sleep…of not hearing his soft breathing, feeling his warmth…his heartbeat," she trailed off in a whisper.

Something in Tonks' face seemed to melt at Marian's obvious emotion. "I'm happy for you both," she said, trying to draw her friend away from painful memories. She added cheerfully, "I'll be at your wedding. Is Remus invited?"

Tonks had asked this as a sort of test, and Marian knew it. "Of course," she answered, inwardly wincing. How would she explain this to Severus?

But something in her expression must have tipped off her friend, and Tonks followed up her question by smiling broadly and saying, "He would be honored to attend, but I think I'm going to have him stay here to watch Teddy instead."

"Oh, well, Teddy's invited too," Marian interjected, anxious not to offend her friend, who seemed to have completely forgiven her for her long silence.

"You really don't know how to quit when you're ahead, do you?" Tonks teased.

In response to the American's quizzical expression, she elaborated slowly, "Look, Marian. I'm not stupid! I know that Snape doesn't want Remus (or Sirius) at his wedding ceremony, especially if there are just going to be a handful of people there. Remus will know better than to show and get Snape all riled up on his wedding day—it's obvious to me what needs to happen, and if I can see it, then Remus definitely can. He's more tactful than even me, you'd be surprised to know."

Marian grinned at Tonks. They both knew that she wasn't tactful. At all. Her friend spoke up again, admitting rather sheepishly, "You know, I'm so relieved by all this. When you first arrived, I thought I must be going crazy, because you looked so happy and sparkling, like you were lit up from the inside. You definitely didn't look like someone confined to solitude and mourning the loss of the man she loved."

Before Marian could reply, they heard the front door swing back on its hinges, but something stopped it before it hit the wall and woke up the misophonic portrait of the late Mrs. Black. She heard whispered voices approaching, and soon spotted the exhilarated faces of Sirius and Remus. They exclaimed in delight when they spotted her. Sirius beamed joyously and bounded forward. Tonks and Marian had stood to greet them, and Sirius raced to Marian and caught her up in his arms, spinning her around and laughing happily. He was wearing a weathered leather jacket, and smelled deliciously of the sea. Sirius was very strong; he had lifted her effortlessly. "Whoa, there," she objected in amusement, and he placed her back on her feet with very little jarring.

"It's just so good to see you," he explained jovially, "It's been too long. Have you come to stay with us?"

"It's wonderful to see all of you as well," she answered, grinning up into his vibrant brown eyes. Remus had approached Tonks and had wrapped his arm around his diminutive wife. Both men wore Muggle apparel, but Remus had on rough canvas clothing, a turtleneck and oilskin boots, and looked like a sailor on an eighteenth-century whaler. Wizards could be so funny when they tried to go Muggle.

"No, I can't stay. This is going to be a very busy week, I'm afraid. Besides, it's already morning here, and you guys need to get some sleep. You've been out all night….Did you catch anything?" she added, prompted by curiosity. She had always wanted to see one of these elusive fish, to discover whether they really looked as fearsome as she had always heard.

Sirius gave her a boyish grin and said, "I didn't catch anything. Fishing is not my calling, I'm afraid. I have absolutely no patience….But Moony here managed to nab one."

"You did?" Tonks asked, looking up with lively interest on her face at her husband, whose tousled brown-gray hair appeared charmingly windblown.

"Yes, I did. We were about to give up, and then I felt something powerful on my line. Nearly dragged me in, actually….But once we had him in the boat we saw that he was only about the span of my arm, and so we let him go, since he was hardly the monster we were hoping for," Remus confessed self-deprecatingly.

Tonks snorted with laughter and nudged him with her shoulder. "Just as well. I didn't much like the idea of dning on nothing but catfish for the next year," she responded archly.

"I guess I'll be going. I've officially broken my self-imposed exile, and I apologize for how distant I've been. Things are a lot better, and I definitely plan to be more available and a better friend to you all than I've been. Tonks, when you want to talk, or need company or a babysitter or whatever, Floo me. Anytime. No matter what," Marian exhorted her impulsively, while smiling amiably.

"Oh, I will. We still have much to talk about," Tonks said, in what she intended to be an enigmatic tone, but which actually announced to everyone that she and Marian shared a secret and seemed to dare them to inquire into it.

Marian cocked an eyebrow at her, but her friend winked exaggeratedly at her, before putting on a mock-innocent air that would fool no one. She only hoped that Remus didn't notice and ask his wife what on earth had gotten into her. If so, then the secret would be out before breakfast. Marian was still standing, but had made no move towards the door or the fireplace, prompting Sirius to ask, "How do you plan to get home?"

He seemed somehow ill-at-ease, his confident amusement had evaporated in a moment, to be replaced by a curious agitation.

"Portkey," she answered matter-of-factly.

"It's been so long since I last heard your voice. Do you think that we might…talk, for a moment?" he asked awkwardly. She nodded and turned back towards the sofa. Remus and Tonks had paused to listen, although they belatedly decided to go upstairs and leave the two alone.

"Your clothes smell awful, Remus. I've got to get you out of your wet things," Marian overheard Tonks say with a wrinkle of her shapely nose.

Remus murmured something in reply, and it must have been cheeky, because Tonks swatted him playfully in answer. Sirius watched them leave with an indecipherable expression on his face. "That has to be interesting for you, having newlyweds staying here," Marian commented amusedly.

"They're still a thousand times better than being alone with the portrait of my mother," was his wry rejoinder.

He had sat beside her on the couch, but seemed not to know what to do with his hands, tapping them nervously on the armrest before he finally stopped and decided to bite the bullet. "Look, I know this is a painful subject for you, and I'd like to avoid it, but I find I can't," Sirius said in a rush.

His opening was reminiscent of Tonks' earlier strong words. Marian didn't like where this was headed at all, but responded politely, "That's okay. Go on."

"I know why you haven't been answering any of our Floo calls and why you've been staying in America. It was…him. _Snape_. _He_ was the one you loved. Remus told me," he added as an afterthought.

"Yes….Are you angry?" she questioned.

"I don't really have any right to be," he hedged, before saying wistfully, "I know that we agreed to be friends. And I was fine with that. I had been locked up for so long, and I thought that maybe what I had been feeling for you didn't have anything to do with how wonderful you were, per se, but with the fact that you were the only young, attractive woman I had seen in over a decade."

Marian had always suspected this was the case, but didn't have the heart to say it—especially not in the middle of his confession. Pausing to gauge her reaction to his words, he continued when she didn't appear to be getting angry, "And so I left you to your mystery man and dated other women. Several other women. Witches and Muggles, blondes and brunettes. A curse breaker, an Unspeakable, a Ministry worker, an Auror, and a barmaid—among others. But I felt nothing. I couldn't bring myself to have strong feelings for any of them. Not after you."

She made as though she would interrupt him, and so he sped up his words in an effort to get them all out before she begged for his silence, "I know that you're still grieving, and I know that you didn't pick me first, but I'm still in love with you. I can't help it. When I heard your voice, calling to me in the darkness, and you smelled like life and beauty and wonder even in that place behind the Veil...I've never felt anything like it. You brought me hope and freedom. I wanted to tell you a million times. I waited for you to wake up in agony, but somehow he got to your bedside first—I'm sorry. I don't mean to upset you. But _please_ just think about it. You don't have to say anything now. In fact, I don't _want_ you to say anything now. I know that you'll shoot me down like you always have, and say that you'll never love anyone else, but please _don't_ say it—even if it's true."


	41. Chapter 41

Chapter 41: All That Glitters

Marian's throat had gone dry in an instant. She knew that she ought to stop Sirius before he said anything else, but wasn't quite sure how to approach the issue. This was completely new territory for her. She had—on very rare occasions—found herself in the position of being forced to turn down someone's advances. But none of those men had actually cared about her, and it sounded as though Sirius did. She had always thought that it must be incredibly romantic to have men pining for her, but was finding the reality much less pleasant.

Marian found something inexplicably poignant about the whole thing. Sirius was her _friend_. He was brave and clever—one hell of a man, in all honesty. He deserved better than to yearn for someone that would never feel even the beginnings of love for him.

As she sat frozen, deliberating over a course of action, he continued to speak, in tones thick with passion, "That time you stayed here was the only period in my whole life that this house ever felt like home. I was experiencing so many new, conflicting emotions during that Christmas. It drove me mad that I was stuck here, while you came and went. Whenever you would leave, it didn't matter who else had stayed, I always felt that all the warmth had gone."

He fumbled with the packet of cigarettes in his jacket pocket, and had pulled one out of the carton before he remembered himself and put it back, muttering, "Oh, I can't. Forgot about the baby…._Anyway_, then I had too much to drink at that Christmas party and made a royal arse of myself, and I think I pushed you towards Snape, too. He got to dive in and play the knight in shining armor. But I handed him the opportunity on a silver platter…

"I didn't know what it was that made you so irresistible to me at first. I had been around beautiful women, and London is filled with people from other countries—although your accent _is _cute. But I think it was that you didn't need me. Most women your age are so desperate to be in a relationship—especially when they find out that I have money."

She raised an eyebrow, but Sirius was so used to being matter-of-fact that he didn't notice he had said something potentially offensive. He and Tonks had that behavior in common, and Marian decided that she liked it. She had never had a problem accepting the truth before, and refused to start now. Sirius saw her faraway look and realized that she had become lost in thought. He hoped that she was giving serious consideration to his words, so he kept speaking, "…But you didn't seem to care one way or the other. I could tell that you had self-respect in spades by the way you carried yourself. And your eyes—they intrigue me most of all. They're filled with cool intelligence, and completely lacking fear, although I don't doubt that you would display it readily enough if it suited your purposes. I'm not saying that you're manipulative, just…adaptable.

"I didn't see it for a while. I'm very good at reading _men_. That was one of the things I learned in Azkaban. I watched the prisoners come in, and pretty soon I was able to tell which ones would be carried out dead in a week, which would go mad, and the ones that would make it the longest….I know it may have been misogynistic, but I didn't judge you the same way I would have a man. I was misled by your soft body and pretty face and didn't see that you were made of iron. I imagine that you're the sort of woman that attracts the very strong and the very weak, but not much in between—once they get to know you."

Taken slightly off-guard by this rather back-handed compliment, she asked flippantly, with a tiny edge to her voice, "Which are you?"

He snorted with self-deprecating laughter and answered, "I always assumed I was the former, but you've made me an honorary member of the second group, I'm afraid."

She smiled bleakly in response, gathering herself to answer him as she should, "Sirius, I know that you don't want me to give you an answer today, because you think that time will only help your suit. But I feel that it's my duty to tell you that time is not a factor here."

"What do you mean?" he asked anxiously, sensing the writing on the wall.

Marian had been staring at his five o'clock shadow rather than his eyes. Morning light was pouring through the windows, highlighting the many changes that had been made to the house since she had last been there for Order meetings. All of the furniture was the same, but some of the accessories were different. And everything looked considerably cleaner. Marian didn't know whether Sirius was to blame for this or Tonks. Probably Tonks. She cleared her throat and started to reply, but he cut her off and said hurriedly, "No, Marian. Don't say it! I just couldn't stand it!"

He rose to his feet and began prowling about the room. It was unheard of to see Sirius Black ill-at-ease, but he most certainly was, gesturing wildly as he delivered his burning declaration. "I'm not an idiot. I see where this is headed and I know that I've chosen a terrible time to engage you. I just wanted to plant the seed in your mind. I'm not here for the harvest today. But you need to know that I know about Snape, and that I don't care. My feelings for you are real. When you told me before that I didn't know what love was, it cut me to the heart. I've since realized that I didn't deserve you. I only thought about myself. But I've _changed_! I've learned and grown up a lot. I'll wait for you—as long as it takes. I won't be anything like Snape, but I can love you and take care of you. We'd be good together. Don't say anything. Just think about it, and let it go at that," he urged.

Sirius_ had _changed. He didn't encroach on her space and try to use his body to bring her around to his way of thinking. He wasn't cocky and insulting—well, he was a_ little_ insulting. But now he was in earnest, and that somehow commanded her respect. She wanted to take the easy way out and do what he had said, return home without enlightening him, leaving him with his false hopes. But she couldn't 'let it go at that'. He needed to know the truth so that he could move on with his life and not waste any more time. He had put his cards on the table; it would be cruel of her not to do the same.

And so she picked up where he had interrupted her earlier and said quietly, "I've been where you are, and I wouldn't wish unrequited love on my worst enemy. The trouble is, it's usually our friends, rather than our enemies that are afflicted with it. _You're_ my friend, Sirius, and there's something better waiting for you than _this_—than me.

"Because I could never love you the way you need to be love," she pressed on inexorably, over his gasp of dismay, and continued, "I am older now. I know myself, and I know the way I grieve. I could never be with you because _he_ will always be preeminent in my soul. If I ignored my heart and became involved with you, I'm not sure if I would care for you or grow to hate you over time. But I am certain of only one thing, and that is that he will _always_ stand between us."

Seemingly unfazed, he argued, "I know you say that now, but you don't know how you'll feel in the future. Your grief is new. I heard an expert say that when you lose someone, you will grieve approximately one month for each year you knew the person. And since you knew Snape for over three years, we'll say that you need three months. Let's make it four….But wait a minute, it's already been about that long," he trailed off, obviously perplexed.

She was too shocked to be annoyed. Had Severus actually been dead, she would have reacted very differently, but she started laughing quietly to herself over his obtuse, audacious remark and countered, "What you're saying sounds very reasonable, but some things can't be contained by your constructs. You've just quoted a pop-psychologist to me. I'll quote a poet to you… _'For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams of the beautiful Annabel Lee; and the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes of the beautiful Annabel Lee….And neither the angels in heaven above nor the demons down under the sea can ever dissever my soul from the soul of the beautiful Annabel Lee'_…And that's how it really is. He is my _one love_, Sirius. Always."

He flinched, but before he could answer, Tonks appeared on the stairs and called out, "Marian, are you still here?"

Her eyes still locked with Sirius's, she cleared her throat and answered, "I am."

"Good," Tonks said, glancing between the two of them. Marian suspected that her friend knew perfectly well that she and Sirius were still closeted together in conversation, and had returned downstairs to give her an out. Tonks understood that Sirius' efforts would be in vain, and would only serve to discomfit her friend.

With an air of assumed innocence, she confided, "We're planning to have Teddy's Naming Ceremony the day after tomorrow. I forgot to mention it to you earlier. We know that it's short notice, but it won't be a big thing. We're just meeting up at the Ministry for a few minutes at 5:15 and then we're having a reception back at the house in the early evening, once most people are off work. I hope you can make it."

"Thanks, I'll try," she answered, turning to look at Tonks, who winked at her and began heading back upstairs. She was wearing Remus' robe and her hair looked magenta, slicked to her head by the water from the shower. Apparently, she had thought that Remus' clean-up had needed some oversight. Marian smiled to herself, momentarily forgetting her standoff with Sirius.

But he quickly reminded her as he walked in front of her, blocking her line of sight. Marian stood and, in as pleasant and nonchalant a tone as she could muster, said quietly, "I really need to be going. It's broad daylight here, and I still haven't been to bed yet."

She wondered if Severus had waited up for her. She knew that he must have started to, but she _had_ been gone for _hours_, and it was more than likely that he had eventually drifted off. In a way, she hoped that he had. He needed rest. But she missed him, and the selfish part of her whispered that she very much wanted him still to be awake. They could sleep in as late as they wanted the next day, which was a very lovely thought.

A few days after Severus' horrific snake attack, Marian had written St. Mungo's and taken a leave of absence for personal reasons. She had said that her fiancé was in critical condition-he _hadn't_ been her fiancé at the time, but she had hardly expected that her employers would respect her _actual_ relationship with Severus. She hadn't even been able to define what he meant to her _own_ satisfaction. He had been her crush, her love from afar, her 'friend'—yet all of these terms had somehow fallen short. He had been so much to her, and no label had seemed an accurate descriptor for how deeply she was committed to him, especially since she and Severus had had such an unconventional romance.

Blinking away her thoughts, she saw that Sirius had approached her again, with a tremulous, crooked smile. She looked in his eyes, and still saw hope warring with the pain of her rejection. Even with all her words, he still cherished the possibility that she might later change her mind, after more time had passed. She groaned internally. The announcement of her marriage to Severus would be a hideous surprise for him. She felt that she had done everything she could to lessen the future blow, but didn't dare entrust him with her secret. She hadn't worked out all the angles, but there was a possibility that he could somehow use that information to hurt Severus.

"May I have your permission to kiss you?" Sirius asked in low, ardent voice.

"_What?_ No. I can't grant it," she answered quellingly, surprised that he persisted. Sirius had expected this, but caught up her hand anyway and branded it with a fiery kiss before he allowed her to free herself. They stared at each other briefly, and he finally said, in a slightly amused, matter-of-fact tone, "I crossed a line."

"Yes," she answered drily, secretly glad that he hadn't decided to cross a bigger one, and added, "Have a good night, Sirius. I'll see you—Monday, I guess. Please think about what I've said."

"I will, if you'll do the same. Turnabout is fair play, after all," he admonished her with his customary rakish smile.

Marian activated her portkey and found herself in her living room. She paused for a moment, holding her face in her hands and taking deep breaths. She felt like her brain had gone mushy. She hadn't known how to react to Sirius' confession. Should she have been harsher, or said nothing? How should she have handled him kissing her hand? She hadn't liked it, but it had been no big thing really, and she hadn't wanted to overreact. She wished for Severus' clear, incisive reasoning. If only she had been able to 'phone a friend', she thought with a wry smile.

Marian unconsciously rubbed her kissed hand on the fabric of her skirt, wanting to remove the invasive feel of another man's lips. When she looked up, she noticed Severus watching her impassively from the couch off to the side. He had changed into his nightshirt, but had a throw draped across the lower half of his body. His feet were propped on the low coffee table, and he held a book in his lap. Ms. Bear was snuggled up to him, and he didn't appear to mind her presence. The little dog had just woken, blinking the sleep out of her round eyes and wiggling her fluffy tail in welcome. A glass with about a finger left of wine in it sat on the lamp-lit table beside Severus. On the whole, Marian found it a wonderfully comforting scene.

"Well, was it _really_ an emergency? Is everything alright?" he asked, in his smooth, careful voice, while he watched her with unblinking, calculating eyes.

She sighed and paced over to his side, scooping up the puppy before she joined him. Severus lifted up the corner of his blanket and dragged it over them both. Marian turned toward him and said, "No. Nothing was really wrong. Tonks was just fed up with me keeping everyone at a distance. She thinks that I've been staying here in isolation, mourning your 'death', and she decided that it had gone on long enough. She was worried about me."

"She really has the most abysmal timing," he commented sourly.

Marian grinned and took his hand, confiding, "Also, she's a little stressed. She and Remus are living with Sirius, and unsurprisingly, she's the odd man out. Sirius and Remus are inseparable. It's been pretty hard on her to be left alone constantly with the hollering baby while they go have fun."

"Typical," he sneered, "They're just overgrown children. When Lupin came to Hogwarts to teach—with no advanced degree or demonstrable qualifications, I might add-he only encouraged the students in their rule-breaking. He finished out his tenure by neglecting to drink the Wolfsbane I had brewed for him and blundering outside on a moonlit night, endangering several people's lives."

She leaned against him, and he moodily wrapped an arm around her shoulder. She knew better than to take up for Remus. It would be a useless gesture and wouldn't change Severus' mind, but it _would_ put him on the defensive and make him feel alone and uncared for. "I heard about that incident," she said instead, and murmured, "It was very irresponsible of him. And you were really brave, completely unarmed, but selfless enough to come between a werewolf and three children that had attacked you only minutes earlier. It was admirable, especially considering your terrible experience with one when you were younger."

She kissed him softly, her lips lingering on his cheek, and Severus grumbled, "It was nothing, less than nothing," but she had succeeded in cheering him slightly.

Marian leaned against him for another minute before she broke the silence and asked mischievously, "Would you like something to eat? I'm hungry again."

He made a noncommittal sound, and so she stood and walked over to the kitchen, her skirt falling back into position on her way. Deciding that she wanted something sweet, Marian opened the container sitting out that housed the cookie cake she had bought on an impulse two days before. Severus went around the counter and sat on one of the barstools, rather than at the kitchen table, his normal perch. He eyed her with interest as she produced two saucers and a butter knife and prepared to slice into the chocolate chip cookie. "Do you like lots of frosting on yours?" she asked, gesturing to the blue and green buttercream fringe and lettering.

"'Happy birthday'," he murmured to himself, reading the wording on the cake, before looking up and asking quizzically, "Whose birthday is it?"

She shrugged and grinned before replying, "Nobody's. I don't know. I felt like a cookie cake, and this one was pre-made in the bakery section. So? Your preference for frosting: heavy? Light?"

"Light, I suppose. It looks very rich," he answered dubiously.

"And hence the joy and the wonder of the cookie cake," she responded, handing him his slice and cutting a piece with most of the letter 'B' in it for herself.

"Milk?" she asked, walking over to the refrigerator.

"Please," he replied, eying the dessert curiously. She had sliced the cookie like a pizza, and he lifted his piece to his lips uncertainly, as if he strongly suspected that the proper method of eating it was with a knife and fork. She came around the bend with two glasses of milk, and set them down before she hopped up onto the section of counter next to him. He lifted a sardonic eyebrow and she winked, facing him as he ate, taking the first delicious bite.

"Good?" she asked, although the question was unnecessary. He was obviously savoring it.

"I know that we could make homemade chocolate chip cookies that would taste a lot better than this one, but there's something about its size and the buttercream frosting that make for absolute cookie magic….Merlin, is _that_ what time it is?" she asked, catching sight of the clock on the microwave, which read a quarter after three. She had only left the house around nine.

"Yes, it's quite late. You and the purple-headed bride of the werewolf must have had quite a lot to say to each other," he muttered. His voice was like a complicated fragrance. Its top notes might be neutral, but if one listened carefully, it was possible to sense middle and base notes that would tell one far more about what he was feeling. In this case, she sensed his displeasure and Tonks-focused derision.

"She actually has pink hair now," Marian smiled at him with a twinkle in her eye. She had kicked her shoes to the floor after she hopped onto the quartz countertop, which shone and glittered in the dim light. She loved this polished surface, and could picture the slab of stone being roughly torn from the side of the mountain. The rock face teemed with sections filled with clusters of crystals, like a geode, which caught the light in the most marvelous way. Severus had begun caressing the smooth skin of her calf nearest him with his free hand. He had gotten bolder about initiating touch, no longer merely content to wait for her to come to him. He had been fed all sorts of misinformation over the years about women. He had overheard many conversations among postmenopausal professors in the staff room where they had clucked and complained to one another about having to put up with their husbands' 'appetites'.

When he paired that information with what he had heard from his rich, Death Eater associates about how their wives were distant and had a distaste for intimacy, well, Severus had drawn his own conclusions. Men in this type of relationship—both of the Lestranges had fallen into this category—had made no bones about using the prostitutes of Knockturn Alley for the needs that weren't getting satisfied at home. Severus knew very well that these women weren't doing it with his fellows for pleasure; they were getting paid. He remembered how the other Death Eaters had especially laughed at Bellatrix's husband, when one of the prostitutes had maliciously let slip to his brother that Rodolphus had wanted to be held and 'petted down' in addition to the usual treatment, because he didn't get any caresses at home.

Severus had observed the man's burning shame, and had never wanted to be in the position of having _his_ weakness exposed to anyone. Because he was well-aware that he had a weakness. He had always shied away from human touches, even innocuous ones like Dumbledore's hand on his arm, because he was unable to accept how much he actually enjoyed physical contact. Since caresses had always been such a rarity for him, each one seemed somehow amplified. He still remembered how exquisite it had felt when he had held Marian's hand for the first time—the rush of warmth, and the soothing, delicious sense of well-being that had blanketed his entire body. But he was a very keen observer, and somewhere along the line had detected that he wasn't alone in his need, and that Marian seemed to have a similar reaction when they touched. He had decided to explore this new data, which was an exciting challenge to his earlier premise.

"Tonks has been trying to find you," Marian said suddenly, scooting a little closer to him so that he didn't have to strain to reach her bare leg. When he blinked at her in surprise, she continued, "I had to tell her the truth about what happened. I made her promise not to tell anyone, of course. She's been questioning Death Eaters and doing everything possible to bring justice to your supposed killers."

"That is somewhat…unexpected," Severus answered, tilting his head to the side in thought.

"I know! I had no idea that she was wasting her time for us. I don't think I ever valued her as I should have," she confessed to him, slightly hanging her head.

"You need feel no guilt where she's concerned. If your situations were reversed, and that mongrel she married had gotten attacked, do you think that she would have troubled herself over peripheral matters like whether her friend was having marital problems?" he asked drily, but he wrapped his hand around her leg in a comforting, possessive gesture, his long fingers cupping the muscle.

Marian shrugged and responded, "I don't know. Maybe you're right, or maybe she wouldn't have been as single-minded as me. There are too many variables to tell."

"If you hadn't been so 'single-minded', I wouldn't be alive," Severus said decisively.

She shot him a grateful glance, and the two went back to nibbling their cookies in companionable silence. "By the way," she ventured after a moment, shooting him a sidelong look, "Tonks asked me to be godmother to her son."

Suddenly filled with dread that their conversation had been building up to this, Severus said evenly, "Did she?"

It wasn't really a question. Marian knew that he grasped the implications in a moment and so she hurried to reassure him. "That was when I knew I had to tell her about you," she said smilingly, "It would be tremendously unfair to you—for you to have to raise Remus' son if anything happened to them. Once I explained everything, she agreed with me."

He released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, but suddenly felt ashamed of himself, "It was a great honor," he said quietly, "Did you _want_ to be godmother?"

Marian placed her hand on his, which was still wrapped around her leg and answered, "I think that she mainly asked me because she thought I needed a reason to 'live again' or come back out into society-something like that. And of course I don't want to raise her baby, Severus! I would, if there was no one else qualified, but she has family—her parents, Sirius. And I'm not too keen on the idea of getting into a custody battle with Sirius Black….Besides, if I ever did have a child, I would want it to be yours, of course."

His eyes glittered at her when she said those words. The love she felt wrapping around her in that moment prompted her to a confession. She had held off, unsure if she should tell him, as it would be a breach of Sirius' confidence, but she didn't want to hide things from Severus. In the end, she decided that she would rather keep faith with Severus than Sirius, if forced to choose between the two. "Severus, while Tonks and I were talking, Remus and Sirius came in from fishing," she began.

"I thought so," he replied in a neutral tone, "When you came in, you smelled of the ocean…and _Black's cologne_."

Marian blanched, although there had been no trace of condemnation in his tone. "As soon as he saw me he grabbed me and spun me around in a hug," she clarified apologetically. His jaw clenched almost imperceptibly, but Marian noticed. She had been eying him apprehensively.

"Too bad there was no field of daisies for him to run through on his way to sweeping you up into his arms. I'm sure that it would have made the moment even more…picturesque," he said flatly.

Marian reached out with her bare foot and gently rubbed his nightshirt-clad thigh. "Love, I didn't ask for him to hug me. He was just happy to see me. Anyway, I felt nothing," she said earnestly.

He sighed and petted her toes. Mentally cringing at what she was about to disclose to him, she nevertheless opened her mouth and said in a rush, "Severus, Sirius asked me to stay and talk to him alone and I did. He told me that he still has feelings for me. I said that there was absolutely no hope, but he thinks that you're dead and that I'll come around eventually. He's going to take it hard when he finds out that we're married."

"Who _cares_ how he takes it," Severus snarled to himself.

"Hey," she murmured, reaching forward and touching his shoulder. He looked up at her with a conflicted expression. Everything that had to do with Sirius Black tended to set him off.

"I didn't mean to upset you," she said ardently, "I just don't want to have any secrets from you. Nothing inappropriate happened. He asked to kiss me-"

"He _what_?" Severus asked hotly.

"I said 'no'! And so all he did was kiss my hand. And then I said goodbye and that I would see him on Monday," she finished, sensing that she hadn't told the story in quite the right way.

He grew very quiet, before hissing, "_Monday_?" in a deadly voice.

"It's the Christening for Teddy Lupin," she explained, "There's going to be a ceremony at the Ministry in the afternoon and a reception later at Grimmauld Place….Oh Severus, don't look at me like that. You know I have to go! …And I was thinking, why don't we sleep in tomorrow and then go clean out Spinner's End?"

"What an adroit subject change," he commented wryly, ruffled feathers beginning to smooth once more. Her fingers in his hair didn't hurt.

"Can you think of a better one?" she asked carelessly, pushing their dishes farther down and easing herself directly in front of him, affectionately sliding the arches of her feet against the outside of his legs, feeling their hardness and a slight tickle from the sparse hair.

"It turns out that I can," he answered deliberately, suddenly alight with nervous excitement. Marian wondered if maybe he had drunk a little too much coffee while she was gone, little guessing the real reason for the spy's strange emotional shift. He reached out and caught something that he had wandlessly summoned and handed it to Marian.

He looked as though he wanted to say something, but pressed his lips together, awaiting her judgment. She looked at the small object in her hand and realized that it was the suede bag in which Harry had sent Severus' treasures back to him. The bag was light, and she wondered if it might be empty, but when she turned it over, something fell into her hand.

She met his anxious gaze with eyes filled with joy and sudden knowledge. It was a ring—simple at first glance, but only at first glance. It was one vertical marquise-cut stone, more than a carat, but probably less than two. The jewel was offset by two tiny emeralds in the same cut, horizontally-laid. She assumed that the gemstone in the middle was a diamond, because this was obviously an engagement ring, and at first, it looked rather like a diamond.

But then she peered closer. It didn't call attention to itself by spraying sparkles about the room—well, it did a little. But when she gazed at it, it seemed to pull her in with an unseen force. Gazing into its heart, the luster exceeded anything she had ever seen or dreamed of. There was movement and light—cold stars and flickering fire. In sudden wonder, she saw that _this_ was what gems were meant to be. Every other stone she had ever seen proved empty and corpselike by comparison. Because _this_, this was the real thing. It was so alive that it almost seemed to breathe-true living rock, the new standard against which every other gem must be measured and fall short in her eyes.

It was colorless and all colors—that is to say, she was sure that she had never in her life gazed on some of the hues sparkling and dancing in its core. The gem had a somewhat alien quality, as though a few undiscovered shades frolicked about among the familiar favorites. The constant luminous glittering and the radiant colors inside it seemed to shift and change, but its beauty was constant. She wouldn't have been surprised if it gleamed in the dark, giving out its own light. Now that she peered at it, she wasn't even certain that it was a solid substance. It seemed to halo and overflow into the space around it like an iridescent plasma, or the glow from an energy source.

"Severus, This is…extraordinary. I've never seen anything like it," she said in hushed tones, staring raptly at the blinking, glittering object in her hand.

The wizard said nothing, content to watch her glorying in his creation. He had never felt so happy, so completely satisfied. Marian looked adorable, perched on the counter in the middle of the night with her slim legs swinging gently, and gazing at the thing that he had made for her as though it was her most prized possession. He couldn't help the flutter in his heart when he saw how much he had pleased her. It had all been worth it—the countless hours spent theorizing and sweating over a cauldron—because his skills had achieved their highest purpose-making her happy.

"Try it on," he encouraged, subtle humor tingeing his words.

Eying him shyly from under her lashes, she murmured, "You do it," and held out her left hand, with the ring daintily clasped between her thumb and forefinger.

Holding her gaze, Severus gently took her hand, deftly sliding the ring up her finger with the other. Trembling with emotion, she suddenly launched herself into his arms, kissing him feverishly everywhere she could reach. "It's extraordinary," she breathed into his ear. They were balanced precariously on the stool, with her straddling him. He tenaciously held their position, until he felt her nip his ear and begin exploring it with her tongue, and then he was lost. Completely beguiled by her attentions, he forgot their unusual seating arrangements. For one critical moment, he neglected to use his feet as ballast and found himself plummeting backwards towards the hard tile. With unusual presence of mind, Marian cast a Cushioning Charm and Severus landed softly, with her atop him, her curves melding to his body in a way that drove them both crazy. Panting with desire and exhilaration, she met his gaze with eyes dark with concern. "Oh love, I'm so sorry! Have I hurt you?" she asked anxiously.

He shook his head, his lips set in an ironic cast that never failed to make her want to devour him. Severus slowly righted himself, helping her to her feet with a hand under her elbow. She kept staring at her ring as though transfixed. "Bed?" he asked gently.

Coming back to herself, she looked up at him and replied, "In a moment. I'll take a quick shower and join you…"

Marian disliked the idea that he could smell Sirius on her, and decided to remedy the situation as swiftly as possible. Severus wrapped an arm about her waist and the two slowly moved toward the bedroom, their dishes lying forgotten behind them on the counter. When they reached their room, Marian turned down the covers for him with deliberate care. Completely besotted, he sat down on the edge of the bed and watched her collect her things for her bath. He couldn't tear his eyes away from her lush figure until the door to the lavatory clicked quietly shut and cut her off from his view, and then he blinked and turned away like a man waking from a dream.

She was as good as her word, and kept the shower unusually short. Once she exited the water, she kept her ablutions to a minimum, only brushing her teeth, adding a touch of antiperspirant, and smoothing lotion over her body before donning her gown and reappearing before him. Her hair hung in a wet dark veil down her back, and she casually dried it. She could go without brushing it for one night, she supposed reluctantly. But it ceased to matter to her when she saw Severus lying there waiting for her. Nothing else mattered but him, and she slid in beside him. He stretched out his arm and she snuggled against his body and let him cradle her there. She held up her hand so that they both had a clear view of the ring and sighed contentedly, admiring it.

Awed again by its beauty, Marian said in a dreamy languor, "It's too exquisite, Severus. It can't really be meant for me."

She turned her hand this way and that, completely mesmerized, but Severus didn't share her preoccupation with the ring. He seemed pleased with the stone, but in a 'job well done' sort of way rather than complete enchantment. He admired the sparkling stone, but not a fraction as much as he adored the delicate hand it rested upon, so pale and fragile-looking, but capable of a grip of iron or the softest, most voluptuous caresses.

Severus responded matter-of-factly, "Don't be so coy. _You're_ a goddess. _This_ is nothing—it's only my offering to you."

She ran her right hand along his hip-bone in a tender stroke and replied in gentle amusement, "You only say things like that to fluster me."

"You see right through me," he replied drily.

"But my Severus, it's just unbelievable….It's about as much like a diamond as a star is like a diamond. It's the most beautiful, hypnotic, alluring thing I've ever seen—besides you," she murmured, taking his right hand and placing it on her waist.

"Well, I'm pleased that it satisfies you. Then the time making it was well spent," he confided, preening under her effusive praise.

"You _created_ this? For me?" she asked a bit shyly.

"Well, I didn't do it for anyone else," he answered sardonically, receiving a playful nudge in response to his baiting.

Relenting, he murmured, "It's a Sorcerer's Stone."

Completely dumfounded, Marian twisted to look him in the eye. "A Sorcerer's Stone?" she asked, as though she hadn't heard.

Marian was awed. Few things shocked her, but Severus' confession had succeeded. She had never imagined that he was working on something for her—much less that he had conjured up one of the most incredible objects of wizarding myth. Even though she was no potioneer, she realized in an instant the import of what he had done. If the legend surrounding the stone was true, then it would turn every metal it touched to gold. Severus had given Marian an unending source of wealth for the rest of her life. No wonder he hadn't been worried about money!

And if _that_ wasn't enough, she had heard stories about its extraordinary healing properties. According to rumor, the stone was so powerful that it could pull someone back from the very edge of death. And the Elixir of Life could also be made from it, making one virtually immortal. In his desire to take care of her, he had handed Marian this extraordinary creation, trusting her to use it well.

"Yes….Although I flatter myself that it looks enough like a diamond that none will be the wiser. And I don't intend to let anyone get close enough to you to notice its…inconsistencies," he declared, reaching up to trace her ear delicately with a long finger.

Bursting with questions, she began firing them off breathlessly, "Not that I keep up on potioneering, but I thought it was common knowledge that the only person that had ever made one was Nicholas Flamel! And he destroyed his and died! Sorcerer's Stones are extinct—aren't they? Isn't it dangerous to make another one? And aren't they always red in color?"

He loved her when she was like this, looking at him with shining eyes, bright with lively curiosity. And so, in his richest, most confiding tones, he explained the following, "You remember that I studied under Flamel. He didn't teach any of his apprentices how to make the Sorcerer's Stone, but it was his crowning achievement, and we were always needling him about it. Whenever he was in a particularly mellow mood, he would sometimes field a question or two about his most famous creation. He never told us much…"

"—But it was enough for someone as clever as you," Marian filled in caressingly, threading his hand with hers, so that it looked as though they were both wearing the ring.

His cheeks turned slightly rosy from her praise, but he replied in a tone tinged with irony, "I'm afraid that you highly overstate my capabilities. I started trying to make my own Sorcerer's Stone when I was an apprentice, but I didn't succeed for many years. It was my own personal Rubik's Cube. In fact, I remained stymied until I had the opportunity to examine the original for myself. I'm sure you heard about the incident several years ago when Flamel sent his Stone to Hogwarts for safekeeping. Several of the professors, including me, devised traps related to our disciplines to keep it safe, creating a magical obstacle-course that only a very knowledgeable and well-rounded wizard could bypass—or one with an eidetic memory, who mindlessly memorized every magical text she could get her hands on," he added sourly.

"I heard about your logic test….Wasn't it designed specifically to counteract that very thing?" Marian asked disingenuously.

He eyed her askance and declared acidly, "There were three of them. No doubt one of the others solved my puzzle for the little Granger girl."

"No. It was her. The two boys told me all about it. They were very proud of her….Why aren't you, Severus?" she asked point-blank. She knew that she ought not to get them off topic now, especially after he had just done something so incredible for her. She knew that it would make him uncomfortable to discuss, but Severus was so taciturn that whenever she found an opening, she had to jump on it.

He rolled his eyes and replied irritably, "I found that she didn't quite live up to the hype. She was one of the more intelligent students, but she minimized her potential by choosing less gifted friends and spending her time rule-breaking and lording it over the others. Ms. Granger could do no wrong as far as the other professors were concerned and she knew it. I treated her exactly the same as I did every other student. She needed someone to keep her down to earth. Just because I didn't hoist her up on my shoulders and sing her praises like the other instructors doesn't mean that I treated her badly."

His voice caught slightly on the last word, as though he suddenly doubted the truth of his statement. Severus had long justified his behavior towards Harry Potter and his friends, but in light of recent events found that he could do so no longer. He felt unexpectedly abashed by the turn the conversation had taken, and experienced a keen sense of shame when he mentally reviewed a few of his more memorable acts of unkindness towards Hermione Granger. Doubly distressing to him was the fact that _Marian_ knew that he had been unjust.

Marian noticed that her spy had stiffened a little, but gently pressed on. "Severus, I've talked to her about you a handful of times and I can tell that she respects you immensely, but never received any recognition or positive reinforcement from you. Even though she found you harsh, she idealized you to a degree. You taught those children for six years—very formative years, and it would be strange if she didn't see you as a very important figure in her life. Besides, Hermione is an intelligent girl and exactly the type to appreciate just how much your intellectual gifts surpass those of other men," she relayed thoughtfully, occasionally glancing down from his shuttered black eyes to the glittering confection adorning her finger.

"Marian, I think you're wrong. That girl has never demonstrated true respect for me. She 'respected' me according to the letter of the law, but completely ignored its spirit. She insisted that her little friends call me by my title, but scornfully disregarded my express instructions on many occasions….I never did manage to get her to stop brewing Longbottom's potions for him," Severus replied in a rather petulant voice.

Before she could respond, he added tiredly, "Besides, it's too late to mend fences. You're right. Granger _has_ known me for years. If I begin to praise her cleverness now, I will only appear weak. People do not forget those that have belittled them."

"Oh Severus," she murmured, and reached out to gently catch hold of his left forearm. "I'm not suggesting that you roll over and reveal your soft underbelly to your former students, but I don't think it is ever too late to give credit where it is due. Your seal of approval is what she has been longing for. I don't think she has a grudge against you. She realizes that you were a double agent, and will find it much more palatable to ascribe your treatment of her to that than to the idea that you just didn't like her. One kind word from you would make her a friend and supporter for life. She will view you as two different entities—pre- and post-war Severus, and put aside your previous behavior towards her. In fact, I suspect that if she were a few years older, I might have a formidable rival for your affections."

She thought that was a kernel of truth to her last sentence, but Severus snorted with derision. "You have never and will never have a rival for my affections. And definitely not Granger. For Merlin's sake, Marian, you act as though you're talking to someone that's never been forced to read her essays. The swotty little chit regurgitated her lessons verbatim. I'll admit that she has a remarkable memory, an admirable work ethic and an adequate grasp of logic, but she's missing the divine spark, that holy fire that separates the visionaries from the mere pedants. The child has absolutely no imagination….She'll never be what you are," Severus said forcefully, making Marian's cheeks heat with gratitude and embarrassment.

"And I'll never be what you are," she murmured, holding up her ring again. Feeling that it was time for a subject change and longing to know more about his lovely gift, she requested softly, "Tell me more about my ring and how you made it. When did you manage such a feat? Did Dumbledore know you were working on another Sorcerer's Stone? Did it take a very long time to gather all the ingredients?"

He smiled tenderly at her, relaxing slightly as they returned to a safer subject. "No, it didn't take long to acquire the ingredients. In point of fact, I already had them on hand. Most are fairly common items and easy to find. It's the putting them together that's difficult...And no, Dumbledore never found out that I could make the stone, because I never ventured to attempt it while I was at Hogwarts. I could have, but once I found out that Voldemort was the culprit behind the attempt on Flamel's stone, I thought better of it. But I was fairly certain of the theory, and finally implemented it a few weeks ago, culminating in that thing you're wearing now," he explained as he delicately took her hand, examining the ring with a critical eye.

"Severus, you're a marvel," she whispered, entranced by the genius of the man before her.

His eyes glinted and, in a sly voice, he said, "Well, I've been unable to leave to_ buy_ a stone. This is the best that I could do."

She chuckled and answered, "Your best is formidable indeed….Those side stones look like true emeralds. Did my alchemist create those too?"

Fondly wiping a smudge of lotion off her arm, which she had neglected to rub in in her great haste to be with him, he replied awkwardly, "No…they _are_ emeralds. They used to constitute the eyes of the Slytherin serpent on my Hogwarts house pin. In my school days, we received them after we were sorted….It was one of my most treasured possessions, but since I don't wear it any longer I thought—"

He was talking very quickly and was obviously embarrassed by his sentimental display, but when he glanced up at Marian and saw that her eyes were shining at him in wonder and affection, he took a breath and finished his explanation. "I thought that it would be nice to have you wear something that I wore for so long, something precious to me. The cut of the emeralds gave me the idea for the shape of the Sorcerer's Stone. I know that it is not the most common cut for engagement rings…" he trailed off, still slightly worried that she would have preferred something else.

Marian snorted with laughter, startling him and drawing his eyes towards her. "You give me a gift out of legend—the most beautiful, romantic, creative, astounding thing I've ever seen—and you worry that I would have preferred my _Sorcerer's Stone_ to be _cut differently_," she teased.

Sobering slightly, Marian reached up to stroke his cheek and said seriously, "It pleases me better than anything I could have imagined. Never doubt it. I love that you made it, and it was a beautiful gesture to demolish your childhood trophy in order to get the emeralds to adorn it. You, Severus Snape, have no equal."

At those words, he slid closer and his parted lips found hers and softly caressed them. When he pulled back a moment later, her eyes were closed, savoring the taste of him. Clearing his throat, he added somewhat breathlessly, "Incidentally, your ring is a portkey like your bracelet. Right now it will only bring you here and to your house in England, but I'm convinced that we can modify it later with additional locations. You know that we're already very close to implementing our idea of multiple destinations...The ring is also equipped with several protective spells."

She nodded, paying rapt attention to him, although her eyes continually dropped back to his lips, seemingly of their own accord. He noticed, and swallowed hard before saying leadingly, "I'm not sure what you know about the Sorcerer's Stone—about how it was made or what it can do."

Marian blushed slightly, wishing that she knew more about Potions theory so that he wouldn't find her answer lacking, but she said shamefacedly, "I really don't know anything about its construction, and I've heard many things about what it can do, but I might be wrong…"

She trailed off, but he conveyed his encouragement by quirking a brow and placing his hand lightly on her arm. "Well, I have heard that it can be used to make the Elixir of Life, but that may not be right, because the way I heard it, the Stone doesn't need to be destroyed to make an unlimited supply of the potion. I also heard that it has extraordinary healing power, although I'm not sure how its power would be harnessed," Marian finished, but looked as though she would say more.

He grinned and asked, "Anything else?"

She huffed and replied in amusement, "I had also heard that it could change any other metal to gold, but I can see for myself that that's not true, because I touched it to some things in the bathroom and nothing happened."

He laughed aloud and replied, "It turned nothing to gold because I created a micro-barrier around it. It's indetectable, but you're not really feeling the Stone's surface, but my magical barrier. It would be dangerous for you if anyone took your ring for anything but a diamond engagement ring, so I made sure that it wouldn't turn anything to gold without your express permission. But you need only speak the secret word and touch it to an object, and it will turn that object to gold in the milli-second that the barrier is down."

She regarded him with growing admiration, her eyes glimmering at him like aquatic worlds, dusted by starlight, the emotion there visible to him, surging and cresting like waves. "What's the password?" she whispered.

"_Archives_," he replied, looking suddenly very smug.

She smiled and blushed a little, utterly captivated by him. "The site of my first golden, shining moment with you. How very fitting," she murmured.

"I do try," he smirked, obviously pleased with himself, before recollecting that he hadn't addressed the rest of her comments and answered thoughtfully, "Your beliefs about the Sorcerer's Stone are not wrong…in any respect. I do not know how to brew the Elixir of Life, but the recipe exists and is possible to track down….I've just never had any interest in living forever. Besides, I expected to die a violent death, which the Elixir would not have prevented in any case."

Marian shivered and shifted closer, and Severus' eyes softened in an unspoken apology. "The Stone's remarkable healing power is only efficacious for its creator and recipient, because of the manner of its brewing….You asked before why your stone is not red like the other. I can only assume that the color of the final product had something to do with intent. I made this for _you_, to take care of you, to show you that I love you. Flamel created his for himself and his own purposes, and out of scientific creativity. Yours is also much stronger and harder than the original Sorcerer's Stone—I can only assume that it is more concentrated."

"But Severus, how would you transmit your motives to a set of inanimate ingredients?" she asked curiously.

Pleased that she was asking the right questions, he replied, "By the nature of the ingredients themselves. The recipe requires certain physiological, ah…tokens from the brewer. Since they came from me, they reflect the chemical state of my body as it was at the time."

"Tokens?" she asked, suspecting he was talking about blood, and sincerely hoping that the potion had required nothing more critical from him than that.

He gave a sharp nod and to her surprise, began to blush. Marian playfully reached up and cupped the apple of his cheek, stroking her forefinger across his cheekbone in affection. "Three ingredients had to come from me—a tear, a drop of blood and a drop of…"

He hesitated for a few beats and the twin spots of color on his cheeks noticeably darkened. She edged closer to him and tilted her head in question. "A drop of my…essence," he uttered in a guilty whisper.

Did he mean what Marian thought he meant? One look at his flushed cheeks and she realized that _yes_, he most certainly _did_. She found the idea of him thinking of her while he procured that particular ingredient…more than a little arousing.

Severus suddenly sat up in bed, leaning against the headboard, while Marian dropped her hand and stared up at him in bemusement. "And it is no coincidence that the three items that I used were all spilled for you. I suppose I thought it would be more fitting, but I might have inadvertently strengthened the power of the spell and adapted it to our specific needs. As much as I search for an answer, I can really find no clear-cut rational reason for why the Stone has manifested itself as a pseudo-diamond to us. I don't understand why it shaped itself according to my wishes. There is only so much that is explainable in magic—even Potions, that exquisitely logical art.

"The first of the three human ingredients was a tear I shed in fear and longing for you after you left Hogwarts. I preserved it, because the idea of making you a Sorcerer's Stone someday had occurred to me even then. I thought it would be a fitting answer to the gift you had given me—that ingenious portkey….I did not dream then that I would give it to you for our engagement.

"The drop of blood, I spilled to protect you…sort of," he murmured, looking down at his pale hands lying folded in his lap.

Her eyes alight with concern, Marian exclaimed, "What do you mean?"

Studiously nonchalant, he replied, "Voldemort lost his temper and sent a casual Slicing Hex my way when I disagreed with him about a certain…_task_ he had in mind for you, which I eventually—and very fortunately-managed to talk him out of."

Sitting upright and tucking her knees against his thigh, she asked, "What task?" in a wary voice.

Severus sighed and said slowly, "For his voyeuristic pleasure, he had the idea to test your loyalty and knowledge by having you demonstrate at least three fatal curses that he had never encountered before. You were to inflict them on victims to be selected by him."

"Who did he mean for me to curse?" she asked, wide-eyed with horror. She had never realized how close she had come to being sought out by Voldemort for his own evil purposes. She had thought that Severus had over-reacted when he had told her what a profound impression she had made on the Dark Lord, although in her heart, she knew that it would be very strange if she didn't sometimes occupy his thoughts. As far as she knew, no one else had ever been offered the Mark after one meeting. But Marian should have known that no one was as lucky as she had been, and that something—or someone-must have been turning the Dark Lord aside every time he prepared to call her up for active duty. Of course she should have known that that 'someone' had been Severus.

And he had been hurt while shielding her. Marian flinched in horror and self-loathing. Severus glanced at her and paused, seemingly sorry that he had begun to speak of these things. His eyes were large and velvety, so different from their usual cold inscrutability that she wondered at the tenderness and concern she saw shining out at her. She forgot her pain for a moment in her sudden awe. How he must love her!

"I'm not sure that he had anyone specific in mind. Captured enemies, Muggles…there is really no telling. He was angry with me at first when I tried to dissuade him with logic, but even if he felt the need to punish me for my…audacity…at least he didn't completely shut out my words," Severus said, swallowing down the bile he felt rise whenever he thought about his precious, beautiful lover facing such a terrible trial.

Marian thrilled with horror. He had never told her this before. "Thank you," she breathed fervently, "Thank you so much, my darling. I'm so sorry that you were hurt on my account. I never meant that for you—_never_."

Leaning forward, she burrowed against his chest, pressing her face into his neck and breathing deep, comforting breaths. He pulled her closer, and she slid easily into his lap, melting into his body as she had longed to do all night. His breath caught, and he began awkwardly skimming his fingers through her hair, gently combing the ends, which spilled down her back, over the coverlet and the pale gray of his nightshirt.

"Think nothing of it. I would never have allowed him to use you or hurt you. I'm just relieved that my course of action was effective. Had he intended to make you a more active participant in his movement in spite of my counsels, I would have had to resort to more drastic measures," he murmured, an ironic note twining through his confession.

She ceased nuzzling him and lifted her head to look him in the eye. Quizzically, she inquired, "What would you have done?"

He laughed cynically to himself and didn't answer for a moment, before he whispered passionately, "Anything. I would have done _anything_."

She froze, eyes locked with his mesmerizing black ones, which were filled with a steely intensity, and he continued in a more audible tone, "I couldn't have made you break your bargain with him, so I would have had to incapacitate you in some way so that he would get word that you were unable to do his bidding."

"Incapacitate me?" Marian asked archly, and attempted to pull away, but he stubbornly held her until she desisted in her attempt with a faintly amused huff.

"Yes," he said bleakly, "I would have protected you however I could. Even if I had to use an ancient curse to place you in a limbo-like sleep until I could safely wake you."

"You would have used the Sleeping Beauty Curse on me?" she asked, and she wasn't quite sure whether she was more comforted or aghast at the desperate lengths he had been willing to go to protect her from Voldemort.

"If you were unconscious, you could not be his instrument," Severus maintained vehemently, adding, "I would have let nothing happen to you. I would have taken you from the hospital once it became public knowledge that you were a victim of that curse. I would have secretly revived you or kept you somewhere safe, where no one could take advantage of you in your cataleptic state."

Marian's natural humor won out and she said sardonically, "Well, I'm very glad that you have such a way with words. If Voldemort hadn't been convinced by your arguments, I dread to think of the toll your Plan B would have taken on you…and on my reputation as a successful curse-breaker, I might add."

He gave a small snort of laughter, and Marian shifted positions, carelessly throwing a leg across his lap and straddling him as he eyed her curiously from his throne of pillows. She decided to change the subject, thinking that they had spoken of dark things long enough. The witch didn't like when Severus grew tense and upset. So far he had regained little of his former strength, and remembering past sufferings and worries was only liable to slow his recovery. Licking her lips, she said leadingly, "So one of your tears went into the Sorcerer's Stone…"

He nodded. "And a drop of your blood?" she asked.

He inclined his head again, although he seemed slightly nervous, in anticipation of what she would say next. "And your…um…seed?" Marian trailed off.

He could only nod. The silver-tongued spy had gone suddenly mute. "So I am wearing your…semen?" she asked for clarification.

With his heartbeat throbbing deafeningly in his temples, Severus said earnestly, "Much more. Although, yes…that essentially is one of the components."

"And_ that_…was_ it_ spilled for me also?" she asked in a low voice, dripping with honey and wreathed with flames.

"Stop it. You know that it was. You know that I…always…when I think of you," he stuttered, glancing down, suddenly shy, dark lashes forming a deceptively soft shield for his penetrating dark eyes.

She shifted on his lap and was unable to suppress a soft moan when she felt him begin to harden against her. She had been quiet, but the spy had heard her and the erotic sound galvanized him to action. "You should know this now," he whispered, tugging her hair to angle her head back and breathing the words directly into her ear.

"I'm going to want you all the time, over and over. I intend to take you every way ever conceived by man and then to start back at the beginning. I'm going to find out for myself how much pleasure your body is able to take, and then-" Severus paused, closing his eyes and breathing hard, before he promised, "I'll be insatiable when it comes to you….And so, tease me all you like—for the moment, you little minx, but you'll soon have to pay the piper," he purred, punctuating his remarks by ghosting his lips along her throat, until, without warning, he placed a passionate, sucking kiss there.

Overwhelmed by the tide of pleasure caused by his sudden display of dominance, she softly cried out and involuntarily squeezed his hips with her thighs, reflexively rocking up and down a few times before she got her body under control. Her passion was only fueled by the way he paused in his ministrations and hissed harshly at her movements against him. Severus was suddenly in an agony of pleasure, and knew they had to stop—_now_, before he made a mess of the bedclothes.

Unceremoniously rolling her off his lap, he lay on top of her for only a moment, lightly pinning her hands above her head, his arms flush with hers. He kissed her violently as she writhed against him, his wildness sparking her blood. Almost no time passed before he extricated himself and lurched to his feet, heading for the bathroom purposefully—and slowly—with no word of explanation. He needed none. It was on the tip of Marian's tongue to ask if he needed a _hand_, but he had already shut the door, which she decided was definitely for the best.

He returned to her with alacrity, and it excited her to think that he must have been _very_ close when he pulled away from her. Having such a profound power over a man so stoic and impenetrable fired her lust and imagination.

Not that his power over her wasn't _at least_ as potent as hers over him, she thought, all too conscious of how her body still surged with unfulfilled desire. Severus slid back into his former spot without a word. But for the hectic flush that graced his gaunt cheeks, Marian would have had no clue as to what he had just been doing. He looked as graceful and immaculate as ever. Lying on his back and training his eyes away from her, Severus spoke completely off-topic. "I did some research into the two golden bands we saw after our Unbreakable Vow," he mentioned nonchalantly.

Still not trusting herself to speak without begging him for things she ought not to ask for, Marian made a soft noise of interest to prompt him to continue. "Of course, Lupin either found extremely uncritical and unreliable sources or he misrepresented his findings to us. Either scenario is completely expected. In any case, there was far more to the bands than a mutually selfless act that revealed a 'bond of strong friendship or love'. The gold rings were much more than an indicator of something. They are the tell-tale flashes of light that denote a spell being enacted. In this case, an ancient magic—all but forgotten. And our own actions caused it to come into being."

"A spell, cast on us without our knowledge? What does it do? Is it a harmful magic?" she asked, his mysterious words slightly distracting her agile mind from her overpowering need for him. He made her so weak that she was ashamed. Ordinarily coolly composed, she had the tendency to become such a soft, voluptuous creature with him. His hands had the ability to mold her like clay. She didn't understand it, and it made her realize just how little she had known herself. Contrary to her own long-held beliefs, she was actually…feminine—either that or Severus wielded a terrifying power over her, changing her into this strange, malleable woman that she didn't recognize.

Speaking gently and sleepily, in a manner completely at odds with his fierce, overpowering words of a few moments before, he answered, "The Unbreakable Vow triggered it—it is an almost unheard-of side-effect—primed, no doubt, by the odd compatibility of our magic. But the result of the spell is that we will die at exactly the same moment…."

He trailed off, expecting her to be upset over his revelation, and was surprised and warmed when she answered, "Oh, Severus, I wouldn't have it any other way. I don't want to live without you—not for a second. This spell is a blessing."

He made no sound, but reached out to stroke her bare arm. Finally, he felt compelled to add, "Now we share our magic…and our life-force, I suppose. There is more to the spell than dying at the same moment. We also have a limited capacity to keep each other alive if one is healthy and the other ill."

"Oh!" she exclaimed, clapping her hand to her forehead, "I just assumed it was a miracle that my shoddy first aid was able to save your life. Now I see how wrong I was."

Smiling and rolling onto his back, he murmured, "It _was_ a miracle. Just not in the way we thought."

Completely exhausted by the late hour and their elevated emotions, the two drifted ever closer to unconsciousness. Just as Marian was about to surrender herself to sleep, she heard Severus chuckle softly, and glanced over to see Ms. Bear standing atop him. She had just made her way up the puppy stairs, and hadn't managed to bypass the wizard's long body on her way over to Marian's side of the bed.

Since Marian knew that he was still awake, she asked sluggishly, "So tomorrow, Spinner's End?"

He sighed in amusement and tiredness and confirmed, "Spinner's End," although she could have sworn that she detected a slight wince in his tone.


	42. Chapter 42

Chapter 42: A Glimpse of Darkness

As Marian had anticipated, she and Severus woke extremely late, although she didn't really mind at all. They had planned to spend the day packing up his old house, and she secretly looked forward to it, although she would never tell him that. Somehow, she was quite certain that he felt the opposite way. She hoped that his quarters would give her some insight into the spy that she now called 'fiancé'. The bleak headmaster's residence at Hogwarts had revealed little, but he _had_ only moved there recently and under rather traumatic circumstances. She was convinced that Spinner's End would be different and allow her to uncover a little more of his personality and habits.

After all, he _had_ spent his whole life there—on and off anyway. She couldn't wait to see his Potions lab—she knew that he must have one, and supposed his house to be littered with evidence of all manner of curious hobbies.

The moment she shifted position, Severus opened his eyes and murmured, "What time is it?" in languid tones.

"I'm not sure—early afternoon perhaps. I hope it _is_ late. You need to get plenty of rest...Love, you shouldn't have waited up for me last night," she chided gently.

He scoffed, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "As if I could rest, knowing that you were on the other side of the world….Besides, don't tell me that you're disappointed with the way the night ended," he finished smugly.

Melting under his knowing glance and twirling the shining ring on her finger, she answered happily, "Far from disappointed."

She still could hardly believe it was real and felt excited every time she looked down—both over its beautiful, incredible nature and for what it symbolized. But as she lay there, snug and safe under the warm comforter, and eying his lean back while he braced himself to stand, she began to think more about _other_ aspects of last night, after he had given her the ring. Once Severus closed the bathroom door behind him, she muttered, "Disappointed? No. _Frustrated?_ …There are no words."

The two quickly dressed and ate a light lunch. Marian made sure that she carried the expandable bag that she had used to remove his things from Hogwarts. When they had both finished eating and sent their dishes soaring into the sink, Severus turned to her and said briskly, "Let's portkey to your house in England, and then I will Apparate us from there."

Marian secretly questioned his ability to Apparate, but if he felt he was up to it, then she would go along with his plan. She resolved to pay close attention to him though, to make sure that if he began to look even slightly under the weather that he would sit down to rest and leave the rest of the packing up to her. When she merely nodded in reply, he suddenly vanished. A moment later, she followed him, and landed in her English living room feeling slightly off-balance. She immediately felt a steadying hand on her arm and looked up at Severus, who was approaching her with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. Twining his arms about her and holding her flush to his body, he murmured slyly, "Forgive me if I seem a bit forward. I _would_ just grab your arm, but I am, after all, a man in poor health."

She barely gasped out a laugh at her words from so long ago thrown back at her, before her surroundings began spinning crazily, and she felt compelled to cling to him and press her face into his robes. He seemed to be standing still, the only steady, solid object in a dizzily chaotic world. Several very long seconds passed before she heard him say amusedly, "You can let go now. We're here."

"But you feel _so good_," she breathed, stepping back from him, but not before she felt him tense with pleasure at her words.

Marian glanced about her for the first time, keeping her face carefully expressionless, as she could feel Severus' hyper-sensitive eyes upon her. No wonder he had not wished to return to this dark, unhappy dwelling. They stood just inside his front door, in the middle of what she could only assume was his living room, but it was a desolate, dreary sight. The room was very narrow, almost like a corridor, and there was barely space for the thread-bare sofa. The walls were covered with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, which overflowed to the edge, having books double-stacked in many places. The whole house had an air of neglect, as though it had been frozen in time forty years in the past. She could see into the kitchen beyond and noted that the wallpaper appeared dingy and torn. Dust had settled over everything. She mused that a house full of books _should_ feel comforting, but it didn't.

She had hoped to learn about Severus by visiting his home, but she was not learning the kinds of things she had expected. Instead of finding evidence of his ingenuity everywhere she looked, she saw something of the state of his mind as it had been for so many years. He had neglected his space and neglected himself. The whole place was rank with despair and a sense of powerful misery. She hated the sight of it, and hated even more what it portended. It served as a hideous reminder that her man had not always been loved, that he had spent far too long consumed by loneliness and feelings of unworthiness.

"Come," he said, breaking in upon her thoughts. She looked up at him, slightly startled and realized that he had dropped his teasing manner. Now the one, clipped word was spoken in a monotone, but she could see lines of pain and long-held bitterness play around his supple lips.

"Where would you like me to start?" she asked bracingly, determined not to let him fall prey to his dark memories once again.

He slightly shook his head, and had clearly been wrapped up in musings of his own, when he answered, "If you wouldn't mind packing the books, I would be greatly obliged to you."

"Do you want them all?" she asked.

He nodded and replied, "I disposed long ago of those I had no use for."

Beginning at the far corner of the room, Marian began dusting, shrinking and packing the books. She paused at the second shelf when she noticed that Severus had opened a secret door that had been hidden by the books, and was preparing to ascend the dark, narrow staircase that had been revealed. "Oh, a secret passageway!" she exclaimed, unable to contain her glee.

Severus smiled wanly and murmured, "Not so secret. My one amendment to this house was the bookcases, and when I built the shelving, I hid the door that led upstairs. But I'm afraid that it has always been here, and always led to the same two bedrooms and bath."

"One bath?" she asked, before adding in disgust, "Do you mean that you had to share with Wormtail?"

A shiver of remembered anger passed through him and he answered, "Yes. Not that he took advantage of the facilities very often, the musty, stinking creature."

In spite of her earlier resolution to play it cool, Marian couldn't help but approach him and murmur in a low voice, "Severus, I'm sorry."

He laughed, but the notes were strained and terribly unhappy. "Marian, don't be silly. I'm going to gather what I intend to keep from upstairs. Please continue on with the books. If you finish before me, you can go into the kitchen and pack whatever you see that we might be able to use. I doubt there will be much. Only pack it if it will be useful. I would keep nothing for sentimental reasons," he stated matter-of-factly, although his flexible, velvety voice added a rather vicious twist to the last two words.

Stroking his forearm gently, she nodded and turned back to her task, faintly hearing the sound of his boots on the rickety wood as he ascended out of sight. Soon, Marian forgot everything but the books in front of her. Even though the house had proven to be a miserable hovel and evidence of Severus' unhappy, precarious plight, at least he had filled the place with so many wonderful books, each one a way out and door to another world. The majority were magical in origin, but there were others—dictionaries in eight languages, reference books of all kinds, from subjects as diverse as gemology and Muggle political philosophy.

Severus truly was a polymath, and Marian noted that he had absolutely exquisite taste. So many of the titles captured her imagination, and she practically jumped up and down in her excitement and desire to delve into them. Every time one really fascinated her, she cast a spell to make the spine of the book glow, so that she would immediately recognize which ones she intended to read without having to browse through the mountain of volumes. It would be easy to lose sight of one book among so many, and never find it again. She didn't think that Severus would mind. The magic she used wouldn't harm them and the glow was easily removed.

To her surprise, Severus returned before she had finished, and she looked up at him and blushed, snapping closed the book she held in her hands. She didn't even recollect opening it, but had been irresistibly drawn in, and now he had caught her neatly, as he made sure to let her know with a sardonic eyebrow-raise.

"I'm almost finished, Severus! I only have two more shelves to go," she answered apologetically.

"It's alright, sweetheart. Those books have never been held by hands as lovely as yours. You do them—and me—an honor," he answered with uncharacteristic gentleness.

"Love, what's gotten into you?" she asked in bemusement.

He sighed and walked towards her in his prowling, cat-like way. "I suppose I'm just relieved. I have you now…and you're so…different from all of _this_," he murmured, so low that she had to strain to hear him.

"I'm almost finished with this blasted house and will be able to put this chapter of my life behind me. And believe me when I tell you that it was a very long and ugly chapter," he replied in a stronger voice, his appealing vulnerability vanishing from his tone the moment he became aware of it.

"You didn't take very long about packing the upstairs," she commented, "Did you get all the furniture?"

"I brought along one or two things. Most of this furniture is ancient, and not worth salvaging. I'll be in my lab. It's just through there," he said, pointing to a sealed door of reinforced metal on the opposite side of the kitchen. It looked like a security door and Marian had assumed it led outside, but she really should have known better.

Before he disappeared through the doorway, he called tauntingly, "Feel free to look around upstairs. I know that you've been dying to peek."

She grinned, but didn't deny his accusation. She finished her task with alacrity and headed up the narrow, rickety staircase. The space was so close that she thought these stairs must have originally led to an attic, but perhaps Severus' father had built it up as an addition. Marian noticed that there were no photographs or knick-knacks of any kind, and the cold indifference of the house made her shiver. The first bedroom she passed had a twin bed frame and a mattress, but no other furniture. A noxious odor seemed to hang in the air and she supposed that this must be where Wormtail had been closeted. She quickly passed on, and glanced into a cramped three-piece bathroom. Even though the yellow tiles were beginning to chip and the wallpaper curled here also, she could tell that it had been kept relatively clean. She saw no soap-scum on the shower walls, and the small round shaving mirror was unspotted.

Marian continued on to the largest bedroom, which supported a nondescript pine wardrobe, twin bed and nightstand. She recognized it to be Severus' room at once by the out-of-date Potions journal tossed haphazardly onto the bedside table. A few articles of clothing remained in the wardrobe, but overall Marian had discovered very little during her excursion so far. She noticed a few boxes way in the back beneath the hanging clothes and wondered if Severus had somehow overlooked these. She doubted it. If he had left these things, it must be for a reason. Opening the first box, she found a framed photo with cracked, dingy glass and a cheap gold frame.

She knew at once that the figures must be Severus' parents. The man looked remarkably like him, with the same strong jaw and aquiline nose. His eyes were deep-set and a very dark brown. He was wearing a gray suit, and stood next to a woman wearing a rather unfashionable Muggle wedding dress, but his disdainful expression revealed him far from pleased on his 'special day'. The woman, on the other hand, appeared incandescent with joy, and Marian pitied her instinctively. The young bride had a plain cast to her features, and her hair was dark and lank, like Severus'. Her eyes glowed a lovely honey-brown. She seemed somewhat dowdy, while her husband was a rather striking man. He had close-cropped hair, and Marian wondered whether he had been in the army.

Marian read the story at a glance—an unattractive witch, madly in love with a Muggle, who only tolerated her, at best. She knew that the rest of their drama had played out perfectly in keeping with their inauspicious beginning. They had brought a child into their troubled marriage, which had done nothing to cement their alliance. Instead, they had caused lasting damage to an innocent creature completely at their mercy. Rather than shielding young Severus from the world, they had exposed him to its coldness and savagery at a very early age.

She placed the photo carefully to the side and noticed a stack of family albums. Consumed with the desire to see Severus when he was younger, she opened the first one with curiosity. She paged through the photos impatiently, seeing several well-dressed witches and wizards, who were obviously from an aristocratic line, posing on expensive settees and in the middle of rose gardens. She supposed that these must be his relatives on his mother's side, but nowhere in the book did she spot a picture of Severus himself.

Slightly irked, she dug deeper, but only found another album of the same, and finally a heavy stack of Hogwarts yearbooks. Cursorily glancing through the pile, she saw that these must all have belonged to his mother. How very vexing. With a disappointed sigh, Marian placed the books back in the box. She hesitated a moment over his parents' wedding picture, but finally added it back with the rest of the things to be left behind.

After Marian descended, she figured that she might as well start on the next thing Severus had requested of her, and so she entered the kitchen, magically opening all the cupboards at once. She found some old pots and pans, rusted and dirty from disuse. There were some dry goods in the pantry, but very little else. The crockery was almost non-existent. There were a few mismatched plates and cups that looked like the lone survivors from sets bought many years ago. She wondered if they had belonged to his mother. Remembering his words, Marian didn't presume to pack anything on the assumption that it might hold 'sentimental' value for him, but she saw nothing that looked worth preserving. She had better supplies at home, which he no doubt knew. Shrugging her shoulders, she followed his earlier path, and carefully pushed open the door to his makeshift laboratory.

For the first time since she had entered Spinner's End, she found herself actually impressed. This lab was state-of-the-art, filled with all manner of ingredients and equipment. His lab at their home had been laid out in a similar fashion, but he had clearly not invested as much time there and it had yet to reach this level of beauty and efficiency.

Severus stood in the corner, tirelessly shrinking and packing cauldrons, and Marian breathed, "Oh Severus, it's lovely."

He looked at her with a gratified spark in his eye. This had been the only part of the house that he had devoted anything of himself to, and it pleased him that this would be the room she chose to compliment. She looked around her with wondering eyes, but her sweater-clad arms hugged her slim form for warmth. "This is the last room and then we'll be finished," he murmured kindly, "We can go soon."

"What can I do?" she asked, approaching to look over his shoulder.

He took one of her pale, cold hands in his and said, "If you would take over packing the equipment, I'll get started on the ingredients."

Marian tilted her head in assent and set to work, but not long after, she felt a delicious warmth blanket her. When she glanced up, Severus had already turned away and was busily packing, but she knew that he had cast a Warming Charm on her.

The next hour and a half passed pleasantly, with them bantering back and forth. Marian asked him questions about some of the things she saw and he answered her graciously, pleased that she exhibited an interest in this area of his work. Finally, when all of his implements had been safely stored in their charmed bags, they prepared to leave, glancing around the empty room with satisfaction. Marian thought she might have detected a hint of nostalgia for a moment in Severus' eyes, but convinced herself that she must have been mistaken.

"I'll have to return once more to dispose of my remaining possessions and dismantle my wards before I put the house on the market-but, all in all, a very successful day's work," he declared, gently caressing her arm before sliding his hand into hers and portkeying them away.

It was dark when they returned home, and even though they hadn't been awake for long, the packing had worn them out—well, had worn Severus out, although Marian pretended to be the exhausted one. They resolved that the unpacking could wait, opting instead to turn in early. They ordered a pizza, which Marian procured for them while Severus showered. She watched him anxiously until they fell asleep, convinced that his excursion to his old home would depress him and that he would begin to withdraw from her. Surprisingly, this didn't happen, although he did seem a bit more pensive than usual.

She was especially tender with him, speaking softly and stroking him gently whenever she thought she could get away with it. Luckily, he didn't mistake her heightened concern for pity; instead seeming to revel in her attentions.

The next day dawned cold and overcast, and Marian had intended to rise early, but a quick trip to the lavatory over the icy floor talked her out of it, and she slipped back under the blankets and sidled up to Severus, spooning his back after starting a small fire in the grate. He murmured sleepily and briefly touched the hand cradling his waist, before succumbing to unconsciousness once again. Marian smiled softly to herself. He had come a long way. A few months before, any little thing would startle him out of sleep, and he would go from comatose to absolute alertness in an instant, completely bypassing this cute, sleepy, snuggly state.

Several hours later, they finally left the confines of their bed, and Marian remembered with dismay that she would have to leave Severus in order to attend that blasted reception at Grimmauld Place. She knew that she would feel all sorts of awkward around Sirius after his confession and attentions, but gritted her teeth and resolved to make the best of things-to be kind, yet distant.

Severus had headed to the lab again almost as soon as he left the bed. She didn't know what he could possibly be working on, but he was back to his old secretive ways. Marian decided that when he wanted her to know, he would tell her. She wouldn't deprive him of the grand reveal for the world. She knew that he had a genius for potions, and that coming between him and his work could deprive the world of some new brilliant piece of magic. After all, his last project had been more than remarkable.

When she had dressed and was prepared to leave, she approached him where he was working, careful not to stand too close, and said solicitously, "It's time for me to go to the christening for Tonks' kid."

His eyes flickered to hers, and for a startled moment he looked vulnerable, before he answered pithily, with his usual calm, "So early? Ah, the time difference...Well, I suppose I'll see you tonight."

"You will," she replied, subconsciously smoothing her plum-colored robes, which were edged with delicate black scrollwork.

Severus had turned away from her, ostensibly to stir something in a pewter cauldron that emitted mint-like fumes and strange, blue-black, greasy vapors. After a brief silence, he said unconcernedly, as though to himself, "Well, if you _are_ leaving this early, at least you'll probably return before it gets very late."

Something about his stiff posture turned his softly-voiced observation into a question. Perhaps he was as sorry to see her leave as she was to go. Filled with an impulse to kiss him, she nevertheless restrained herself, not wanting to startle him and ruin whatever concoction he was engaged in creating. And so she contented herself with murmuring, "That's the plan…I'm not looking forward to this event, but it will be tolerable…as long as you're here when I get back."

Severus asked nonchalantly, "Why should it be unpleasant? You'll be around your friends…people that adore you."

She paused in the doorway and said softly, "Well, _you_ won't be there….That's really reason enough."

"Will you wear your ring?" he asked innocuously.

She nodded adamantly, and a faint smile touched the corner of his mouth. "You do realize that it may raise all sorts of questions that will prove very difficult to answer," he said drily, determined to play Devil's advocate, no matter how much he secretly wanted her to wear it…especially around Black.

"I'll cross that bridge when I get there. But I have no intention of taking it off—ever," she said, favoring him with a dazzling grin that warmed him through to his marrow, before portkeying away with a wave.

When Marian arrived at the Ministry, she headed for the Information Desk, but just as she reached the counter, someone placed their hand on her arm. Tensing, she turned icily towards the interloper, but thawed in an instant when she realized that she was looking into the warm, amiable face of Molly Weasley.

"Marian! I can't believe that it's really you…and looking so well. Tonks told me that you were coming, but I hardly thought it could be true," she exclaimed beamingly.

Marian couldn't keep her lips from twitching into an answering smile, although she kept her left hand in her pocket. This was hardly the time or place to field the inevitable questions. "It's so wonderful to see you, too! I've been a little…overcome these past few months, but everything is better now. So tell me, have Ginny and Harry set a date yet?" she asked innocently.

That question was enough to begin to bridge the gap between them, because Molly took it and ran with it, filling Marian in on all of the doings at the Burrow. She was a warm, great-hearted lady and she didn't resent her friend's withdrawal after the war. She had somehow caught wind of Marian's passion for Severus Snape (which had really become the worst-kept secret among her friends), and pitied this woman, who, so young, had already known such loss.

Molly suddenly looked about her impatiently and said, "Arthur promised he wouldn't be late! He was supposed to meet me here and show me to the room where Teddy's getting christened."

Smiling with relief, Marian said, "Oh, I'm sure he'll turn up any second. I'm glad you found me...I have no idea where to go."

At that very moment, Arthur suddenly sped around the corner, looking harried and exhilarated and much spryer than Marian would have expected for a man his age. She guessed that knowing his wife was waiting for him had proven incentive enough to discover a sense of urgency. When he saw Marian standing with Molly, he grinned broadly and pulled the long-lost witch into a crushing hug.

He was bursting with conversation, but Molly gently reminded him of the time and the three moved towards a lift, which quickly filled with people. Unwilling to discuss their private affairs in front of so many Ministry workers, the three held their peace until they reached the area of the building where oaths of office, naming ceremonies and all sorts of other legal matters were taking place.

"We're going to talk later—you can count on it," Arthur promised his young friend, as he took Molly's hand and led the way into the room.

The office was already filled with people, although a sense of solemnity prevailed and no one spoke over a whisper. She spotted Remus and Sirius engaged in earnest conversation with the Weasley twins, and nearby, Andromeda Tonks cooed over the baby of the hour, who had been dressed in a long white robe with delicate red and gold smock around the collar and hem. Harry and Ginny held hands as they talked with Ron and Hermione, who stood suspiciously close to each other. Marian grinned and predicted that hers would only be one of three new weddings that would take place in the next few months.

To her immense surprise, she noticed the Malfoys standing off to the side, tastefully and carefully dressed. Narcissa smiled and inclined her head at her. Marian knew that she didn't remember that Marian had removed her Dark Mark, but the American had left the preceding and following events intact in her mind. A very clever witch or wizard would be able to infer that Severus' lover had had something to do with the Mark's sudden absence.

Marian intended to say hello to them, but placed her hand in her pocket. She had the feeling that Lucius and Narcissa knew a thing or two about diamonds—although even they would never guess what actually adorned her finger. But just as she took a step in their direction, Tonks caught sight of her, waving frantically and bouncing over to her side of the room. Her hair flowed down to her collar in a shock of fluorescent pink. Marian grinned at the notion that not even these official surroundings could inhibit her friend's bright, easy manner.

Tonks greeted her happily and noticed that Marian was still eying the Malfoys. She rolled her eyes and whispered loudly, "Mom made me invite them. Narcissa is her only surviving sister…but as far as I'm concerned, they _chose_ their side."

Marian nodded but murmured back, "Still, you can see where she's coming from. Your mother married a Muggle-born and embraced her husband's egalitarian ideals. Narcissa married a pure-blooded aristocrat and found herself enmeshed in her husband's politics and ideology. They both chose, but maybe it's not too late to reach some sort of understanding."

She grinned and answered, "You rehabilitate one Slytherin, and now you've somehow become an advocate for all of them. Just how many do you intend to adopt, Marian?"

Marian scoffed, but whispered back in amusement, "Trust me—I'm not even sure I can handle the one!"

Tonks waggled her eyebrows in a gesture endearingly reminiscent of Sirius, and Marian choked with quiet laughter. At that moment, they realized that the room had grown suddenly silent, and Tonks shot her a guilty glance and made her way back to the front of the room, where an unamused, bosomy Ministry official had just appeared on the scene, eager to conduct the rite.

The whole procedure took barely ten minutes, and Marian spent most of that time glancing around the room observing the others. Draco looked slightly intrigued when the baby suddenly changed his hair color from blue to green. It proved a little bit shocking to the Ministry worker too, because she paused mid-word and seemed to forget her place for a few moments. One of the Weasley twins snickered, and Molly shushed him, which in turn prompted snickers from Ron and Sirius.

But when Remus and Tonks pronounced Sirius godfather, all of his mirth fled, and he appeared awed by the gravity of the moment. Carefully cradling the small boy, he swore to protect and cherish it and to become surrogate father if anything should ever happen to his friends. There were tears in his eyes as he held the child. Marian wondered how this could be the same man that had been capable of such refined cruelty when it came to Severus.

It was a beautiful, poignant moment, and no one in the room was left unaffected. Marian noticed Molly wipe a bit of moisture from her eyes, and Arthur wrapped an arm around her and pressed his cheek against the top of her head.

The moment the naming ended, the room erupted in claps and cheers, which startled Teddy and caused him to begin crying. "Do you mind helping me with the drinks?" Tonks asked Marian, practically jogging towards the door, baby in tow.

"Are you kidding? I don't know what else I would do with myself," she answered, glad to be able to assist in some small way. It made Marian feel more like a member of the family, rather than just another one of Tonks' well-wishing co-workers.

When Marian, Lupin and Tonks arrived at Grimmauld Place, all was quiet. Lupin unlocked the door for them, looking younger and cheerier than Marian ever remembered seeing him. Clearly, a wife, kid and regular meals had done him a world of good.

Tonks took Teddy upstairs for a feeding, and Marian had barely taken her place in the kitchen, collecting champagne glasses and chatting with Remus, when guests began to arrive.

Sirius Black burst swiftly into the house, seconds before the hordes descended. He was delighted to see her, eagerly scooping her up in his arms and spinning her around, much as he had done the other night. It was the prerogative of an 'old friend', she supposed, although she secretly believed that she would never feel quite comfortable around him. He was too…sexual, and had made it clear that he wanted her. Also, she knew that Severus wouldn't like him touching her. But unfortunately, Sirius tended to act so quickly that she rarely got a chance to head him off, and instead found herself constantly reacting to his provocations—always two steps behind. She hated it.

Mad-Eye Moody suddenly stumped into the house, followed by three or four Aurors that she didn't recognize. Remus greeted them, and they looked over and spotted Marian setting out the champagne and stirring the punch, and sent her courteous nods. Mad-Eye surveyed her keenly with his spinning blue eye, and when he jerked his head in acknowledgment, she wondered exactly how he viewed her. Had he noticed her efforts during the final battle? Or had she escaped his attention in her polyjuiced form, and lingered in his memory as the one member of the Order cowardly enough to cash in her membership.

She didn't know, but suspected that he realized more than he let on. He had spent decades being the wizarding world's equivalent of a detective, after all. Secretly, she felt great respect for him, and would have liked to receive it in return, although she admitted to herself that her feelings towards him were mixed. In her heart, she hadn't completely gotten over the way he had treated Severus over the years. Since Nagini's attack, she had found it very difficult to forgive anyone that had spoken slightingly of the spy. She felt so protective of her still-weak lover that she worried she might do serious harm to anyone that dared to treat him badly once he was well enough to be out and about in wizarding Britain.

Andromeda Tonks approached and introduced herself, offering her assistance. She was a vividly beautiful woman, who looked shockingly like Bellatrix, even more so up close. The curse-breaker had been struck by the uncanny resemblance earlier, but had been warned about it before and so wasn't startled by her appearance. Poor Andromeda! Marian wondered what it must be like to walk down the street, minding her own business, and having wizards and witches cower and dart out of her way because of her likeness to her mad, Death Eater sister. It must be very frustrating, because she was nothing like Bellatrix. Marian found Andromeda to be a spunky, absolutely lovely lady.

Afterwards, a few more people showed up. There was now a lively crowd and the champagne flowed merrily…as well as firewhiskey. She wasn't sure who had brought the bottle, but suspected the Weasley twins almost as a matter of course. Several people passed into the kitchen to speak with her on their rounds, but many she had never seen before milled about in the other rooms. Marian supposed that most were Aurors that had just gotten off work. Tonks was universally popular in her department.

Suddenly, she espied Trotter, the Auror that had been so rough and foul to her a couple of years ago, speaking to a little knot of them in a corner, near the alcove where she had first seen Severus Snape almost four years before. She hadn't seen this red-faced hypocrite since the meeting where she had publicly quit the Order.

Marian noticed that Trotter looked exactly the same as she remembered, and that he was eying her with an ugly, rather speculative look. Marian glanced away, and mingled with the others, laughing and talking animatedly. Eventually, she forgot the incident and let down her guard, which she would bitterly repent later.

After successfully handing a persistent Sirius off to Harry, Marian turned and found herself face-to-face with the remarkable silvery gaze of Draco Malfoy. She said nothing for a moment, slightly taken aback at his proximity and angelic appearance. "Hello," she finally said, smiling pleasantly.

The boy's steely gray eyes softened after a beat as he gazed down at her, and he echoed her greeting. "So, how are you holding up?" she asked quietly.

He sighed and said cynically, "I fought on the other side in a war against everyone here...and I have a feeling that they remember."

She shrugged. "True, but you're family. You have more of a right to be here than anyone," Marian said, trying to pull the boy out of his obvious misery.

He ducked his pointed chin and muttered, "I wonder when my parents will finally let me leave. Probably not until a reporter shows up," he said, and his tone was so vindictive that he blinked, surprised at himself.

"It's going to be alright, you know," she answered. She liked Draco. She wasn't sure why, but she felt that in some way he was a kindred spirit. Stubborn and aloof she could understand and appreciate.

He nodded and made an effort to keep the conversation flowing by adding, "It will be better once I go off to school..."

"What will you study?" she asked with interest, surveying the pale, ethereally beautiful boy that stood before her. After his barb at his parents, he had suddenly become impassive, veiling his emotions from her curious eyes. She wondered suddenly whether he was an Occlumens.

"My first choice is curse-breaking, but that's rather exclusive and…and my position is...not what it was," he murmured.

"Hey," she said smilingly, "Things haven't changed as much as you think—especially overseas. You wear no Dark Mark, and if your name sounds familiar to any of the professors, that only gives you an edge. Besides, you graduated at the top of your class—Valedictorian, I heard."

"Only because Granger dropped out her last year," he grumbled, although his cheeks had flushed slightly at the praise and at the fact that this pretty witch knew about his academic achievements.

She scoffed and declared, "The award is yours—that's what actually happened. There is no telling how Hermione would have done during her last year—even if it were a_ normal_ school year—so it's a moot point. Besides, I'm a curse-breaker, and I would be more than glad to write recommendation letters for you if you want them….I also know _someone_ who could vouch for your proficiency in Potions and DADA."

She added the last sentence very softly, after carefully making sure that no one could overhear. His complexion cleared up at once and he breathed, "So I _didn't_ dream it all. He_ is_ alive."

Marian's lips quirked, and she placed a finger against them in a conspiratorial gesture. When she had made doubly sure that no one was looking, she flexed her ring finger, making the gem sparkle. His eyes widened and he looked to her for confirmation. She nodded in excitement, and Draco whistled softly to himself in wonder.

Clearing her throat, Marian asked suddenly, "Where would you like to study?"

Shaking his gleaming blond head, he remarked, "I don't know…the best school I can get into I suppose."

She sensed that there was something he wasn't saying and replied meaningfully, "I hear that Australia is a good place for a fresh start…and it's home to one of the best academies in the world...We also have quite a few good schools in the United States. "

He sighed and dropped his shoulders despondently. "I don't know. I doubt my parents want me so far away," he answered. He didn't say 'we only have each other now', but it was clear to her what he meant.

She glanced around the room once more and saw that no one was paying them any mind, so she leaned forward and whispered fervently, "I have made advances in unregistered portkeys. If you get into a school far away, I will create a portkey for you that will take you back and forth between your home and your school an unlimited number of times, and key it to transport you whenever you wish it."

"You can…do that?" he asked, a newfound respect lacing his cultured tones.

"Yes…here is my Floo address," she said, transfiguring one cocktail napkin into a pen and the other into a sheet of paper. If he had any derisive thoughts about the Muggle writing utensil, he studiously kept them to himself.

She handed him the note and he folded it once, before slipping it into the pocket of his crisp, perfectly-tailored black robes. "I will leave it up to you what you tell your parents," Marian added, "You can reveal the truth about the portkey, or gain yourself a little freedom by evading the specifics, and only saying that you will now be able to come home every week, or every two weeks. Or if you prefer, you could portkey home every night. It will be entirely your decision."

"Why are you doing all of this for me?" he asked, and suddenly she no longer saw a tall fair-haired man, but a young, isolated boy trying desperately to fulfill conflicting obligations.

She smiled and said, "You're important to Severus, and Severus is important to me….Besides, I like you. After what you've lived through, you'll either become a very wise man…or go mad. And I kind of think you're a little too pragmatic for the second fate."

He chuckled darkly and retorted, "Sometimes I really wonder….But thank you."

Suddenly his nervousness returned and he twisted his hands, asking anxiously, "Now that some time has passed, do you think it would be alright to visit him?"

"Not yet, but soon. Very soon," she responded, wondering if Severus would wish to invite the Malfoys to their wedding.

Molly interrupted their private conversation when she came over to ask whether Marian knew where Tonks had stored the other box of champagne. With an apologetic glance at Draco, who smirked good-naturedly at her, Marian headed for the kitchen to sort out the problem. She had lived in this house for a while when Arthur had been in the hospital suffering from Nagini's bite, and knew the ins-and-outs of the three pantries better than almost anyone—probably better than Sirius.

In very little time, she had successfully completed her quest, and had set the box on the counter and pried off the lid. Just as she prepared to grasp a couple of bottles and exit, she heard voices around the corner, over by the stairs. "You wouldn't believe the things the Death Eaters have been telling us at headquarters," someone was saying loudly. She thought it might be Trotter.

"Such as?" inquired a polite male voice that she didn't recognize.

"Well, it turns out that the under-achieving Death Eaters had it rather harder than we imagined. Apparently, whenever a Death Eater needed to be punished, Voldemort often allowed the others to turn their wands on him. Fenrir Greyback supposedly enjoyed this sport in particular," he related with relish.

Marian paused in her tracks to listen, a chilled bottle in each hand.

"But that doesn't make sense. Greyback didn't even _have_ a wand," the second man replied diplomatically.

"He had the wand that he was born with—and a rather larger one than most, or so the rumor goes," said a third, very snide voice, in tones laden with innuendo.

Marian set the bottles down on the kitchen counter. All at once, they felt very heavy and very cold.

Suddenly she heard Lucius Malfoy's cold voice snap, "Come Draco, it's time to leave."

She felt disgusted that these men—Aurors, apparently—would intentionally say such cruel and petty things in the hearing of the Malfoys. It was certainly not the treatment they deserved as guests at their nephew's naming ceremony. But part of her felt a little relieved to discover that the Aurors had just been trying to wind up the former Death Eaters, rather than actually telling the truth. Marian heard a door slam in the distance, and knew that the family had departed. Just when she prepared to make her sally out of the kitchen, the second man spoke up again, in tones colored with distaste, "That's repulsive, Keller."

She had thought the men had gone, now that their objective was accomplished. "It may be," came the gloating voice, "but imagine how it must have been for _them_ all those years—for Snape especially, so often out of favor with his master, his only sexual experiences involving being shackled up and ridden like a sheep by multiple men. You know how he enjoyed lording it over people. I bet they really took pleasure in roughing him up. I hear that he constantly prowled around the school. I'll bet it hurt him to sit."

Marian choked down the bile, but stood frozen in place. What he was saying was _possible_. But had it happened? Had the Aurors truly heard this when questioning prisoners?

"That's a bit of a stretch," the more reasonable one answered dubiously.

"Nice pun, Jenkins," his friend replied appreciatively, before adding snidely, "Voldemort sometimes Crucioed the ones that displeased him, but he probably didn't do that very often to Snape because he had delicate potions work to perform, and it causes nerve damage….But according to our prisoners, this sort of thing was all too common within the ranks. I wonder if Snape even bothered struggling, or if-"

Marian couldn't bear to hear any more and she did something that she had never in her life expected to do. She bent over and was violently sick, all over Sirius' tiled kitchen floor. She Vanished the mess in a slapdash torrent of wandless magic and burst out of the kitchen, ignoring the knot of men she passed in a blind rush, in her desperation to open the front door and Disapparate. Remus called her name, but she was deaf to his entreaties. She could hear someone following her, and finally remembered her portkey.

She landed in her living room with a lurch directly in front of a wide-eyed Severus, who had been sitting serenely with a book and a cup of coffee, dressed in his black work robes. He still preferred to dress as a wizard, in spite of his change in circumstances.

She tried to hide her horror and anguish and to school her features into a neutral expression, but it was plain to Severus that she was white-lipped and trembling. Marian was unable to meet his eyes. She didn't want him to see her helplessness, her rage.

Severus looked at her very hard, before asking attentively, "How was it?" in an effort to gather more information.

"Fine," she replied, in a detached, dead voice that caused him considerable alarm.

Noticing his disquiet, she added, "It was all rather unremarkable. But I'm very tired. I think I'll go take a shower."

He approached her carefully, keen eyes surveying her intently. "What happened to your robes? Did the baby spit up on you?" he asked, desperately trying to determine what was the matter.

She glanced down, and grimaced to see flecks of vomit staining the front of her robes. "No, Severus….It was me. I got sick," she murmured in a faint voice.

Filled with concern and alarm, he asked, "What happened? Are you alright?"

She nodded, and he stroked her back solicitously and gently grasped her hand to guide her to the bathroom. But she broke away and excused herself, murmuring something about needing to go to her room to collect her night things.

She vaguely heard him implore her to sit down, and tell her that he would collect them for her, but she left the room before he even finished speaking, frantic not to be detained. She needed to be alone, because she could feel a meltdown coming on. And sure enough, the moment she entered her bedroom, waves of murderous rage crashed over her. Marian wanted to find everyone that had hurt Severus. If he had been abused like those Aurors had said, she would kill them. She would kill all of them. She would torture them in unspeakable ways. She would—Merlin, how could this be? How could they do this to her Severus?

Casting a Silencing Charm, Marian Transfigured a laundry hamper into a punching bag and set it in the middle of her room. Launching herself at the enormous bag of sand, she beat it with her fists. She Transfigured a knife and stabbed it over and over, causing a small mound of tan grit to gather underneath. Tossing this away and shaking violently from exhaustion and her emotions, she began to punch it in earnest, in vicious, sharp jabs. She never felt the tears coursing down her face, although the choking sobs made it difficult for her to catch her breath. As she prepared to deliver a particularly brutal blow, her fist was intercepted by a cool grasp, and then she heard Severus say in mocking tones that belied his genuine concern, "Careful! You'll break your wrist if you continue using such atrocious form."

She tried to turn away from him to hide her tears, but the wizard would have none of it, and clasped her fiercely in his arms. "What happened? What's wrong?" he urged vehemently.

Marian clung to him and breathed in his comforting scent, striving to think about _him_ and not about the story she had heard. If it had been true, he certainly wouldn't want to talk about it and would be devastated that she knew. Her body fit perfectly against his, and his large hands cradled her back and rubbed soothing, hesitant patterns. After a few moments of sanctuary in the arms of Severus Snape, she sniffed inelegantly and peeked up at him, saying, "It was Trotter and one of his Auror friends. They upset me. I overheard them saying cruel things about you."

He set his teeth with an ominous click and asked dangerously, "What else did those curs do? Did they say anything to you? Did they hurt you?"

She glanced down, and watched in fascination as a tear splashed off her lashes and landed on the black wool of his robes, skating down his chest in a glistening bead. She wanted to say, 'yes, they hurt me more profoundly than anyone has ever done', but instead she said quickly, "Just Trotter's usual litany of insults. You know how he and his ilk love to run off at the mouth. I know I should be used to the ways of scum like them by now, but it just…hurts me to hear people speak ill of you."

He pressed her tighter against him and gently cradled her head with his hand. After several minutes, he released her and examined her hands. "They're beginning to bruise. Come into the living room and I'll get you something for them," he ordered.

Severus was a man of action, and he wanted to remedy the situation as best he could. Laughing shakily, she pulled herself together and replied ruefully, "This isn't like me. I'm sorry for scaring you, Severus. I really didn't want you to see me like this."

"Don't run from me, Marian," he said quietly, almost inaudibly.

She gave a laugh that was more a strangled sob and replied shiftily, "I'm not. But I really do need a shower now, and I need to get out of these clothes first."

Severus assessed her with serious eyes. He could tell that she was holding out on him, but couldn't fathom what the Aurors could have said to her to make her lose her composure so completely. He finally nodded, and prepared to leave the lovely green bedroom that Marian had called her own before she began to sleep in his room. But before the spy gently closed the door behind him, he pierced her with one last intent gaze and murmured in a tone that was part-wistful, part-reproachful, "You can trust me, you know."

After he left, Marian bowed her head in agony, trying to ignore the images of filth and depravity that had flickered continuously through her mind since she had heard those men speaking such terrible things about her lover. She knew that she could trust him, and it was a painful burden to keep things from him-especially since she knew he was too clever not to realize it-but she had vowed to protect him. The witch would never tell him what she had heard. If these things were true, it would destroy him to revisit them. And she knew how proud he was. He wouldn't be able to bear it if he knew that she had heard of his victimization.

If the rumors were true, they must be stopped immediately, she thought, suddenly steely and remorseless. She would silence these men, one way or another. And as for those that had done such unspeakable things to Severus, well, she would find them and kill them, of course. But one thing she knew above all, and that was that he must never know.


	43. Chapter 43

Chapter 43: Strange and Subtle Enemies

Marian took a very long shower. Her hands trembled so much that she had difficulty washing her hair, and finally, in despair, she sat down in the corner of the tub and wept again. She had a vivid imagination, and could picture the hideous scene as though it were taking place in front of her. Fenrir Greyback had left such a dark impression on her mind that she could easily envision him delighting in such a depraved activity. There was a lurking, leering hunger in his eyes that had turned her cold with dread upon meeting him, and she had been tremendously relieved when Wormtail had warned him away from her. The thought that Greyback might have slaked his lust on Severus…._It was not to be borne_.

She knew that assaults like the one she had heard about wreaked far more damage than a beating or painful spell. They had the power to eat away at the soul, causing untold damage to a person's emotional well-being. She just wanted to know whether Severus was okay—_truly_ okay. Had he mended? Was he happy? Could he ever be happy—with her? Would the shadow of what those beasts had done return to haunt him during their intimate moments together? Was she doing something wrong with him? Did he need her to be extra careful to avoid certain things, like touching him without his express permission? She sighed and rose shakily to her feet. A lot of research was in order.

Marian remembered Tonks' ominous words from the other night. She had said that she had gone to question the captured Death Eaters about Severus' whereabouts and had found out 'horrifying things' instead. Marian hadn't thought much about them at the time, but now she found those words unbelievably menacing. Had Tonks heard something about Severus that she hadn't had the heart to tell her? She would have to ask—and as soon as possible before she launched her own crusade. Marian had never known such hate, and she resolved that if nothing intervened to stop her, she would wage a campaign of revenge so ruthless that it would make Kriemhild of the Niebelungs appear a meek and merciful maiden by comparison.

While Marian showered, Severus slowly paced about the living room, sunk deeply in thought. He had never seen her like this. When he had come on her in her room, alerted by the ominous silence, she had seemed like a tortured wild creature, beating and tearing at that bag as if it had just strangled her child. She was obviously hurt and angry over some unknown thing those men had said or done. He couldn't figure out what could have happened to make her sick—perhaps they had cast a spell. Or maybe they had told her something about him that was so horrible that it had made her stomach rebel. Freezing, he wondered if that was possible...But he had already come clean to her about the darkest parts of his life. What new thing could they have told her to make her turn from him? Bitterly, he wondered if she was finding herself unable to keep her rash promise that no new knowledge could ever change the way she felt about him.

But perhaps it wasn't that either. Marian generally accepted insults with equanimity. She had heard him castigated in her presence many times at Order meetings and had held her peace. Trotter had never managed to get a rise out of her before, even when he had manhandled her in front of everyone she knew. She wasn't behaving like an indignant woman with hurt feelings, but like someone that had just been subjected to hideous trauma. Had they hurt her? Had they gotten her alone and touched her? Marian was a wreck, and he was far too good a spy to give up before finding the exact information he required. But it bothered him profoundly that she was keeping things from him.

Suddenly, he noticed the fire flare up in the grate. Someone was Flooing. He hesitated only for a moment before approaching the hearth and kneeling, where he found himself eye-to-eye with a very concerned Nymphadora Tonks. Had he been in a less grim mood, he might have smiled at her discomfiture when she realized who had answered her call, but his concern for Marian blinded him to the humor of the situation.

"Professor…" Tonks began, her round eyes darting about as she took in his face and the top of his throat, where he knew a bit of scar-tissue was visible to her questing gaze.

"Nymphadora," he acknowledged formally, causing her nose to scrunch in displeasure. Severus hadn't really meant to bait her, but old habits are hard to break. The two stared at each other for a moment in silence, before Tonks said awkwardly, "I'm glad that you made it, professor. You look like you're almost back to full-strength."

He inclined his head politely and answered, "I heard about your efforts on our behalf and…I would like to…thank you. You have been a loyal friend to Marian."

The words came out stilted, but Tonks could tell that they were sincere. After another uncomfortable silence, she cleared her throat and asked, "Did she come back here? I was worried about her after she ran out of the party."

"Yes, she returned a little while ago looking more distraught than I have ever seen her. Right now she is in the shower, which is why I'm answering the Floo…._What_ _happened at your party? What did those men do to her_?" he asked, urgency coloring his tones.

Tonks' brow creased in consternation and she demanded, "Men? What men?"

"Trotter…and his Auror cronies," Snape spat, "She says that she overheard them talking and it upset her, but I am convinced there is more to the story. Something hurt her very badly….She is…not herself."

Tonks could tell that her former professor was deeply troubled about her friend, and this simultaneously worried and pleased her. It was nice to see that he obviously cared about Marian, but troubling that the normally imperturbable Severus Snape thought something had happened worth being alarmed over. She took a deep breath and answered slowly, "I didn't know. Remus said that she suddenly burst out of the kitchen and ran for the front door. He called out to her, but she disappeared. But I will ask around and try to find out what happened. Trotter will be very sorry if he did something to her," she finished with a snarl.

Nodding approvingly, Severus answered, "Please let me know whatever you find out….And if you'll excuse me, I think I'm going to go check on her. She might have gotten sick again."

"Sick?" Tonks asked, pricking up her ears.

"Yes, apparently she vomited. Some still adhered to her robes when she returned home…." he answered with an impatient twitch.

He longed to go see to his lover and heal her hands, and he expected to learn more, now that she had had a bit of time to recover from the shock. The pixyish witch scowled in thought and murmured, "That's very…perplexing. Well, um, have a good night, Sna-professor!"

Even though she liked to pretend that she wasn't very observant, Tonks was actually quite a good Auror, and had noticed Snape's mounting frustration at receiving no new information and being tied up with her when he was aching to be with Marian. She still disliked Severus Snape. He had been a very unforgiving professor the year he had taught her Potions, worse even than in later terms. Severus had tried so desperately to gain his footing during his first year of teaching. He had determined to earn the reputation that he was not to be trifled with among students that had once been his peers, witnessing his frailty first-hand—and there was really only one way to do that. He had to be stricter and more observant than any of the other professors (and McGonagall had been a tough competitor).

But even though Tonks still saw her harsh, unyielding former professor when she looked at him, she also saw the man that loved her friend. Being the recipient of Marian's confidences had altered her perception of the wizard in black, even though she hadn't realized it was happening, and that she had instinctively taken a softer view towards him.

Severus painfully rose to his feet and turned around, spotting Marian standing in the doorway with wet, disheveled hair. She looked very small and vulnerable, but her eyes burned with some strong emotion. His heart contracted violently. "Who was that?" she asked quietly, in a slightly hoarse voice.

"Nymphadora," Severus replied, too stubborn to call Tonks anything but her given name, even when the witch wasn't around to be annoyed by it.

He waited for a response, but all he received was a nod. "She was very worried about you after you ran from her party," he murmured intently, as he motioned for her to sit on the couch so that he might apply the bruise salve he had just Summoned.

"How embarrassing," she answered in a leaden voice.

He frowned. Her words pretended a reaction that she did not feel. There was absolutely no force or meaning behind them. She struck him as a person still in shock. But noticing his expression, she roused herself enough to add in a conciliatory voice, "I overreacted. I hope you told her that I was here and that everything was alright."

Severus sat gingerly beside her on the sofa and took one of her lean hands carefully in his. Her knuckles showed up angrily against her otherwise pale skin, and he could see the red welts already turning purple in some places. He bit his cheek, upset that she would abuse her body in such a way. But even though he could feel his temper rising through his growing sense of helplessness, he kept his touch gentle, dabbing and massaging the thick paste until he could see the marks begin to recede.

Glancing up and catching her eye, he bit out meaningfully, "Well, you're _half_ right. I told her that you were _here_."

She took a quick, indrawn breath, but made no other sign. Deciding to come at her obliquely, he said irrelevantly, "I have a confession to make."

"What is it?" she asked, curiosity drowning out her demons for the first time since she had come home.

Sensing her piqued interest, he replied, "I left for the Ministry not long after you did."

Clasping his hand convulsively, she asked, "You did?"

"Yes. It was a perfect opportunity for me to reveal my survival to the Ministry….I know that we had agreed that you wouldn't accompany me, but I thought it would be less complicated to go while you were otherwise occupied—that way you wouldn't worry," he explained.

Shooting him a watery smile, she answered wryly, "You seemed so innocent earlier—unaware of the time in England, so wrapped up in your work. I never suspected you….Well played, Severus Snape. _Well played_….So what happened? Did it go alright?"

Severus didn't consider himself an emotional man, but the truth was that he felt things very deeply; he had just gotten used to wearing his armor and pretending unconcern. His usual defenses worked for him around others, and he could serenely carry on with his business even when he heard those about him whispering all manner of slanderous things. But with Marian, his usual sangfroid flew out the window, and her moods directly affected him. When she felt happy, he was content. When she was troubled, he was tortured.

"Well, I used a Concealment Charm until I reached Auror headquarters, and then I revealed myself to everyone in the room. It was right at closing, and so Aurors continually streamed through on their way home from work…._The looks on some of their faces_," he paused, smirking as he savored the memory, before continuing, "With very little persuasion, the receptionist conveyed me to the head of the department—a former Order member, of course, and we soon sorted out what he needed to know about my continued survival."

"What did you tell him?" she asked in a small voice, intrigued in spite of herself.

He ceased his rhythmic caresses and switched to Marian's left hand, eying her while gently sliding the engagement ring off her finger and placing it on the coffee table. He tsked when he realized that her unusual exertions had nearly caused the band to cut into her finger, badly bruising her. It had left a bluish black line that he sadly traced with his finger. Marian flushed guiltily and her hand twitched in his. Finally recalling her question, he answered in low tones, "Very little. I told him that I didn't remember much. He obviously didn't believe me, but was decent enough not to push. I suspect the reporters won't be so merciful….But I was left with the impression that he intended to respect my silence because he thought I couldn't bear to recall my torture, rather than because I was shielding my 'captor'."

He had uttered the last line in a slightly amused tone, and couldn't understand why Marian suddenly blanched. Noticing that he was eying her with a strained, anxious look, she quickly tried to distract him by asking, "And what happened then?"

Not taken in by her ruse for a moment, he sighed and answered wearily, "He Floo-called the Minister of Magic. Shacklebolt had already gone home for the evening, and we communicated via fire for a few minutes. He wanted me to do a press conference with him," Severus added distastefully.

"Will you?" she asked.

He scoffed. "Of course not. I told him that I wished to be left alone and to live a private life. Strangely enough, he seemed taken aback by my answer. I suppose he expected I had a craving for the limelight, since I had wound up at Hogwarts as headmaster. Everyone seems to think I _desired_ that appointment," he groused.

"I never thought you did," Marian answered gently. While he had bent over her hand, engaged in soothing her hurts, Marian's eyes had been roaming all over him. He still looked as capable and self-contained as always, but now she doubted her perception of him. Perhaps he had demons that troubled him relentlessly. Perhaps she made them worse by constantly initiating physical contact. She didn't know what to do, but thought it would be better to withdraw until she had a chance to research.

"No, because_ you_ know me," he whispered, shaking her out of her dark imaginings, "You know me better than anyone….And I know _you_. What has happened? Marian, tell me the truth," he pressed.

"_No_!" she exclaimed passionately, before she had a chance to curb the word that had instinctively escaped her lips.

They both froze. "I'm sorry," she said, in an almost inaudible voice, "I didn't mean to say that….Listen, Severus...I think I'd like to go to bed early, if that's alright."

It was only mid-afternoon, but he was so stunned by the brick wall he had just smashed up against that he didn't argue with her, only nodding mutely. Turning quickly away from his hurt, bewildered expression, Marian swiped her ring from the table and headed down the hallway, making for her green room.

The wizard watched her pass their bedroom with a sense of foreboding, and finally found his voice. "Where are you going, love? You've walked right past the room," he spoke in consternation.

She paused, her back to him, ramrod straight, "I think it would be better if I slept in my old room tonight."

Springing to his feet, he reached her before she processed that he had risen from the couch. Clasping her upper arms in a firm, yet gentle grasp, he said exasperatedly, "This has gone on long enough, Marian! I can't help you if you won't tell me what's bothering you, but if you're so determined not to speak of it, I will let you be until you've gotten some rest. There is no _need_ for you to sleep elsewhere."

"I never throw up….It is most unlike me. Perhaps I_ do_ have a touch of something. You're still healing and your immune system is weak..." she trailed off disingenuously.

"That's a risk I'm willing to take," he murmured firmly, effectively calling her bluff. She still would not meet his eyes and it hurt him more than he expected.

"Well, _I'm_ not," she replied, faint amusement lacing her tone. But she needed his touch, had been needing it all day. Perhaps another hug would be alright….She suddenly melted into his body, craving him so desperately that her legs trembled. She held his robe-clad form and absorbed his warmth and his woodsy, familiar scent.

Her blood surged through her veins, and she nuzzled her cheek against him. Suddenly overcome with desire and a protective sort of longing for the spy, she plastered her curves to his spare figure, unwilling to leave even a breath of air between them. The perceptive wizard sensed the change in her, and her passion lit his in a moment, causing him to gasp softly into her hair before murmuring breathlessly, "You're trying to distract me—and doing a damned fine job of it."

"I think it's rather the other way around," she gasped, twining her arms about him, and tenderly stroking the ends of his hair and the nape of his neck.

"You know what this means though, don't you?" he asked suddenly.

"What?" she panted, her mind somewhat sluggish. Suddenly, she felt very, very tired. She wasn't used to emotional upheavals like the one she had experienced this day. She was a placid sort of person, hating conflict and drama.

"There are no more barriers between us," he confided, "We can get married tomorrow if we choose."

Marian's heart leapt with excitement, until she suddenly recalled what she had learned today, and the memory seemed to cut through her like an icy wind. She began to peel away from him carefully. "Yes," she answered, once more studiously looking away, "But let's wait until this weekend, when my family will be off work."

She slowly slipped out of his grasp, and said, in a falsely bright voice, lip trembling slightly, "I can't wait."

"Can you really not?" he asked, in a rather hard tone. He hadn't missed the fact that she was withdrawing from him again; and despite their momentary physical connection, her mind was still miles away and completely inaccessible to him.

"Oh, Severus! Why do you say that?" she asked, turning around, dismayed.

"You ask that, yet you _still_ haven't met my eyes tonight….Why do you turn away from me? I'm not going to delve into your mind," he muttered.

"Why not? You've done it before," she shot back defensively, regretting the accusation even as it left her lips.

Stricken, he stared at her for a moment, before murmuring softly, "You're right. I have," and then he turned and walked quickly away.

"Severus, I'm sorry!" she called quietly, voice cracking. But he hadn't heard her, and she knew it. Marian paused uncertainly for a moment, before walking heavily towards her bedroom. She wanted to go after him, but decided to give both of them some time. She didn't know what to say anyway.

As a foreseeable consequence of retiring to bed so early, Marian woke up around midnight and found herself unable to go back to sleep. Not that she wanted to, she thought with a shiver. She had rested fitfully, her troubled thoughts lending an ominous cast to her dreams.

Rising as quietly as possible, she walked into the bathroom, splashing water on her face and gazing for a moment at her gaunt, pale reflection in the glass. She felt that she had aged a lifetime since morning. Marian knew that many would think her horror over what she had heard excessive, but what had happened to him was the thing she had always feared most. It was a hideous, disgusting violation; an attempt to take away his dignity and supersede his will when it came to the most intimate things. They had appropriated Severus' body for their own—and it was the one thing that should be truly his. The fact that the man she loved, rather than her, had been the victim of this perversion only made things worse. She would have done anything to have spared him such evil.

Marian desperately needed to feel that she was doing something useful, something to help him. No books in her collection would address her situation, but she knew that it was already morning in England, and that the massive St. Mungo's library would be open. Aglow with purpose, she threw a set of black robes over her nightgown and portkeyed to her other house, where it was only a quick Apparition to the hospital. Luckily, she worked on a different floor, so it was unlikely that she would meet up with any of her colleagues, but she still kept her head down and walked purposefully. She hadn't been to work in a while, and anyone that saw her would want to stop and discuss her reasons.

She made it inside the large, ever-deserted room without interruption. Moving swiftly while glancing at the placards as she passed rows upon rows of tomes, Marian finally ended up in a section she had never visited before—'Psychology'. It took very little time to find four or five books that might have what she needed. She signed for them in an illegible scrawl at the desk—mercifully unoccupied. She hadn't been able to look that little librarian in the eye after he had caught her and Severus in the Archives...no matter that he had been Obliviated. Since there was no one about, she decided to portkey home, but hesitated for a moment, reflecting that the portkey would deliver her to her living room. To minimize her chances of getting caught, she cast a Concealment Charm on herself before she activated the device.

Her foresight was rewarded, because just as she landed in the middle of the room, she espied Severus coming out of the kitchen with a cup of coffee. He walked slowly and looked worn down, wearing a pensive, troubled expression. She longed to smooth it away and decided that after she put the books in her study, she would return and apologize to him. He made no sign that he had detected her presence, and paced deliberately across the living room to sit down on the sofa. It was after one o'clock in the morning, and Severus should be in bed, not sitting up brooding over her erratic behavior and accusations. Perhaps their fight had upset him so much that he hadn't tried to rest, although he wore his nightshirt and his hair was adorably askew. More likely, he hadn't been able to find peaceful sleep. She wondered if he had missed her presence in the bedroom. She knew how empty and cold she had felt without him in her arms. Maybe he was experiencing the same feeling of incompleteness.

Marian went to drop off the books, and remembered to stop by her room to remove her outer garment, disposing of the last evidence of her nightly excursion. She felt a stab of guilt for sneaking around behind Severus' back, and a pressing sense of _wrongness_. She ought not to be keeping secrets from him. But a louder voice stubbornly said, _'Yes, but you're doing it for his own good'_. Even so, a smaller part of her wondered if that mattered—if any cause—however noble-could excuse her duplicitous conduct when it came to him.

Marian entered the den a few moments later, and saw at once that Severus was leaning back in his seat, in an attitude that seemed relaxed, yet simultaneously poised to strike. His body was angled perfectly towards the entrance to the hallway. All at once, she felt a presentiment that he had been expecting her.

"I barely heard you come in. Your _cold feet_ make little sound on the hardwood," he murmured in an indecipherable tone.

Slightly unnerved by his words, she glanced away from his overly-keen eyes and murmured, "It was very good of you to make coffee. Do you mind if I have some?"

He made a gesture with his hand encouraging her to help herself, but replied in soft, cutting syllables, "I confess myself surprised you think you need it, since you were alert enough to leave the house on a nocturnal adventure, thinking me asleep….Do you intend to deny it?"

Taken aback by his venom, she replied softly, "No. I _did_ go out."

"Let me guess. You had to go have another discussion with Black about his love for you…_in the middle of the night_? Or perhaps you decided to revisit a former paramour to see whether the old spark was still there. After all, we wouldn't want you to feel that you were _missing out_ on anything by tying the knot with me, would we?" he asked rhetorically, his words bitter and throbbing with hurt.

"Severus, that's revolting! You know that I would never do that—_anything_ like that!" she retorted indignantly.

"Then _why_ did you _sneak out_ in the middle of the night, and then render yourself invisible upon your return, if not to deceive me?" he inquired icily, dangerously.

"To get a surprise—for you," she answered lamely, her quick wit deserting her in the face of this steely Legilimens.

"Did you indeed?" he purred, before adding softly, "I should very much like to see it."

"But you can't see it now! That would ruin the…surprise," she defended, knowing that he easily saw through her words, feeling uncomfortably like a mouse being batted about by a cat.

"Answer this question—Whatever your surprise is, do you think that it is so great that revealing it later will compensate for the fear and uncertainty I am experiencing right now through your secrecy?" he asked sincerely, his insecurity tingeing all his words.

"_No_," she admitted, almost inaudibly.

"And in spite of this, you still will not tell me?" he asked in disbelief.

"Severus, don't give me the third degree. We're on the same team," she retorted, in increasingly desperate tones.

"I was unaware that this was a game….Very well, I'll _play_," he answered spitefully, "I'll go first-You portkeyed home, which you could have done from anywhere, but I'm going to guess that you subjected yourself to the dreadful dizziness of portkeying in order to venture somewhere far away. Otherwise, you could have just Apparated. But you were…overseas perhaps?"

He paused for confirmation, leaning forward with a shark-like smile plastered unnervingly on his face. Marian's left eye twitched slightly, but she froze in place, feeling for all the world like prey he was about to devour. It was a most disconcerting sensation. Severus was not a man one wanted to run afoul of.

Taking her silence as a 'yes', he then said sarcastically, "I'm going to go double or nothing….Could you have traveled to…_England_?"

"Severus…" she began pleadingly.

"No, Marian!" he answered, in a very different tone. His temper was getting the better of him, and he was no longer able to keep up his cynical pretense.

Snarling, he inquired, "Do I seem like the sort of man that doesn't mind being strung along? Or the sort that is too stupid to realize he is losing you?"

"No, love! Don't you understand me at all?" she implored.

"Don't you understand _me_?" he exploded, "Tell me, was I in any way unclear in conveying my intention that we be exclusive _when I gave you my ring_?"

Feeling like a woman drowning in quicksand, groping in the dark for the vine with which she might drag herself to safety, she settled on the truth, "I needed some books from the St. Mungo's library. I didn't want you to know I had gone out to retrieve them, because I hadn't let you know I was leaving…"

Complexion beginning to clear at her sincere tone, Severus retorted, "Why didn't you say so at once? Why did you leave me in this agony of doubt?"

He didn't want to add the next sentence, but his terrible insecurity prompted him to demand inexorably, "Might I_ see_ these books?"

Shoulders dropping, and feeling utterly defeated, Marian muttered, "No, they're of a…delicate…_personal_ nature. That was why I made myself invisible when I returned—to avoid explaining them."

Scoffing in disbelief, Severus asked, "_Personal_? Marian, we're going to be married in a matter of _days_…."

"Well, you sure don't talk like it! Remember who I am, Severus. I'm the woman that loves you, not your enemy or a wayward child! I may be acting secretively, but I have done _nothing_ wrong...I ask that you trust me, without knowing the facts. It's a lot to ask, but I've never been on anyone's side but yours. _You know this_," she contested hotly, suddenly finding her backbone as her temper flared. She had gotten so used to gentle Severus that it took her a few minutes to remember how best to deal with suspicious, antagonistic Severus.

Her words brought him back to himself and, chastened, he murmured, "You're right. I'm...sorry. I ought not to have spoken to you in such a manner...But what concern do you have that is so private that you cannot share it with me?"

His hurt seeped into the last question, compounding her guilt a hundredfold. "It's not..._my_ secret," she finally admitted, slowing approaching the sofa and tentatively sitting beside him.

She scooted closer, and carefully, daringly leaned her head against his shoulder. He stiffened, but did not pull away. Instead, the fight seemed to drain out of him and he murmured unhappily, "There should be no one else between us."

"There isn't," she earnestly reassured him.

Laughing his soft, ironic laugh, he mumbled, "Isn't there? Can't you see it? You lie to _me_, yet keep the secrets of another. …Well, I suppose I'll head to the lab."

He rose a little too quickly and swayed slightly. "Oh please, Severus, won't you go to bed?" she entreated, concerned about him. All sorts of toxic words had burst out of him moments before, and now he seemed wrung out and defeated.

"I will get no rest tonight," he said doggedly, with a swift shake of his head.

When he reached the door, he added his parting shot, "Enjoy your…_reading_."

Her shoulders drooped, because she knew without a doubt that she wouldn't. Marian stayed up the rest of the night paging through her books. Emotions were not her forte, and many of the things she read only compounded her distress and confusion. Severus seemed emotionally stable to her, but she couldn't understand how he could seem so strong after suffering such horror. According to the things she read, his hurts could be buried deep, and she might inadvertently trigger his trauma at any time. She felt even more helpless, but kept reading.

The next day, Marian was even more solicitous of his needs than usual. She made his favorite foods and seemed very anxious to please him, but carefully avoided all physical contact. She had read about some of the effects he might be experiencing, but until she found out how best to act, she thought that it would be better if she let Severus initiate touch. He didn't.

He had maintained his distance, staying in the lab until Marian called him for meals, and then disappearing back there as soon as possible. He could see that there was something vitally wrong with his relationship with her, but couldn't determine what it was. This was his first romantic association, and he felt hopelessly confused over what he had done wrong. It had not escaped his sharp mind that she studiously avoided her usual caresses, and so her eager efforts to get along only stung him, thinking that they were motivated by a guilty conscience.

Oppressed by a feeling of loss, Severus worked as much as possible, hoping that she would change her mind, that she would come to him and tell him what had happened to her at the party and where she had been the night before. It ate at him so much that he was hardly sleeping, and had reverted to his old habit of going to bed very late and rising with the dawn. He was fractious and constantly exhausted as a result, but since he avoided Marian, she hardly noticed. At night he could hear her tossing and turning in the green room, and he had to dig his nails into his palms to prevent himself from going to her.

Marian had spent the last day walking on eggshells with Severus whenever she saw him, and, in her attempt to avoid hurting him was doing far more damage than she would have had she continued on as usual.

The time she didn't spend reading, she filled with scheming. Marian thought of all sorts of ways that she could find out which Death Eaters were guilty, and how to get her hands on them, but she kept running up against a moral barrier. She knew that what she was contemplating was wrong—no matter how much they deserved it. She wouldn't be acting out of justice, but out of revenge, which went against her religious beliefs. She also knew without a doubt that Severus would be against this course. He had been very outspoken before when Marian had contemplated taking the law into her own hands with the Snatchers. But what they had done was intolerable. It was just too evil, and she _couldn't_ let them get away unpunished.

That night she went to bed early without saying good night to Severus, but she missed him, missed him viscerally, painfully. He was only in the lab, but he might as well have been on the other side of the world. She could feel his anger, his confusion, but she didn't know what to do. Her emotions tended to run high only when she was tired, and her eyes currently burned from exhaustion. She only made them feel worse when she cried herself to sleep.

It might have been two or three in the morning when something woke her. Shivering in her vast, empty bed, she blinked and saw that her door was ajar and that buttery yellow light from the hallway streamed in, cutting through the darkness and forming a warm, golden trail on the floor. Severus suddenly materialized in the entrance and strode purposefully towards her. She could tell that he wore his nightshirt. His expression was intent and a little harried.

Speaking no word to her, he pulled back the astonished witch's covers, and caught her up in his arms. "Severus? What are you doing?" she mumbled, twining her arm about his neck.

"I've had quite enough of this," he replied in a low, intense voice that made her quiver with anticipation.

He took several purposeful steps down the hallway, seemingly unperturbed by her weight. Marian assumed that he must have cast the Feather-light Charm. "Your place is with me, and no one will ever pry you out of my arms," he added fiercely, in a soft, confidential tone.

Still very tired, she just sighed happily and murmured, "Good." He had been eying her carefully after his declaration, and seemed pleased that he was to meet with no resistance.

When he reached their room, Ms. Bear lifted her head from the pillow that had been Marian's and wagged her tail, pleased to see that things were returning to normal. Severus laid her down carefully, reverently, before returning to his side. He didn't retreat when Marian slid forward and wrapped her arms around him, reveling in his scent and his closeness. "I've missed you. I love _you_—not anyone else," she whispered.

He rubbed his cheek against her hair and clutched her with a neediness that he was ashamed of. He had lain in bed awake for hours, craving her presence, but had stubbornly refused to go to her. At some point in the night, he fell asleep, but his dreams were full of pain. Bolting awake, he was halfway to her room before he had fully processed his decision. But his heart whispered that she would make him feel better. She would cradle him in her supple arms, which were soft and warm and yielding. And indeed, she currently gave him exactly what he had wanted. He sighed and snuggled closer. The spy still hadn't found out what was wrong between them, but she had just given him reassurance of her love. For the moment, that was enough.

Marian reveled in his arms for at least an hour, watching him sleep in the dim glow coming from under the door. She tenderly stroked his cheek, admiring his sooty lashes, and felt his steady, tranquil breathing ruffle her hair. Her pulse spiked and she began to get excited in earnest when her thoughts wandered to the fact that they would be married in days. Tomorrow, she would make the calls to her family and transfigure a wedding dress. Marian had long ago decided what her bridal gown would look like. She need only create it.

She pondered what had happened tonight. He was currently holding her tightly against him as if his life depended on it. Perhaps refraining from touching him had been detrimental—the opposite of her intent. She hoped that it was the case. Even though she loved the closeness they were experiencing now, she couldn't wait until she was able to do more to him—to caress him into wakefulness and then seduce him into giving her everything she needed. It would be so delicious to feel him lying on top of her, so warm and lean and heavy….She went to sleep with a small smile on her lips, thinking decidedly impure thoughts.

Wednesday morning, Marian woke alone. When she entered the kitchen, she caught Severus scowling over the paper. "Something wrong?" she asked lightly.

Pivoting slowly in her direction, he said doggedly, "That is the precise question I still await an answer to."

Marian blanched and looked away, surprised in spite of herself at his persistence after their closeness the night before, although she realized that she really shouldn't be. Severus Snape wasn't exactly the forgetful sort. He fixed her with an assessing gaze for several long moments; and then, seeing that he was still to get no satisfaction, he placed the _Daily Prophet_ onto the table and gestured to the front page.

The headline read "_Snape's Lair Goes Up in Smoke_." There was the same irritable-looking photo of Severus that the paper always used, offset by a shot of the burnt-out remains of Spinner's End.

"I suppose now I don't have to worry about selling it," he murmured sardonically, but there was something brittle in his tone. Marian grasped at once that this had hurt him, and hurt him badly.

"What happened? Who do they think did it?" she asked.

Instead of replying directly, he began to read the article in a leaden voice, _"An unexpected twist in the bizarre, ongoing saga of Severus Snape took place in the wee hours of the morning, when the Ministry received word that a magical fire raged in a Muggle neighborhood. When agents arrived at the scene, they realized that the site of the blaze was the house of Severus Snape. The house burned to the ground, but no evidence of human remains was found._

_"Marcus Stevenson, the Auror in charge at the scene, stated that magical arson was highly indicated, but that he has no suspects as of yet. He admitted that it will be difficult to find any leads in this case, because the conflagration was so great that it likely destroyed any evidence. Also, the event occurred in a predominantly Muggle area, and so it is unlikely that any wizards were present to recognize the tell-tale signs of magical malpractice._

_"And then, of course, there is the reason that everyone is secretly thinking: Snape still has many enemies. Even though publicly exonerated, he remains a controversial figure for many. Harry Potter denounced the burning, calling it a 'misguided, cowardly attack', but would not comment on whether he had known about Snape's survival while he lobbied for an Order of Merlin, First Class to be awarded posthumously. _

_"I__f Snape is alive, the Ministry appeals to him to come forward at once to let the public know. This reporter has little fear that he is dead, since he seems to be the man with a thousand lives. The infamous wizard __has been making headline news all week, since Monday afternoon when he entered Auror headquarters, looking ill, but walking alone and unassisted. His life was despaired of following his kidnapping from Azkaban by vengeful Death Eaters, after he had already been nearly fatally attacked by Voldemort's snake. He only made a brief appearance at the Ministry to contest his classification as 'deceased', and was unavailable for comment about his captivity and torture. See page three for an account of Snape's checkered past and rehabilitated reputation."_

"Please don't ask me to turn to page three," he finished grimly.

"Oh Severus," she said softly, "Whoever did this was thuggish and uninformed. You didn't deserve it, and I am so very sorry."

She moved behind him and, after a moment's hesitation, gently smoothed her hands over his shoulders, until she felt him begin to relax. After he had demanded her presence in bed last night, she felt reassured that, at least right now, he seemed to crave her touch rather than be bothered by it. Sneeringly, he murmured, "The morning after the news comes out that I managed to survive, someone burns down my house—no doubt hoping I was inside it."

"A coward," she whispered, "You have nothing to fear from men like that. You took everything you needed already. We gutted that house, and a man that can make a Sorcerer's Stone has no need of the money from the sale."

"Besides," she whispered confidentially, leaning down to breathe in his ear, "We'll be married this weekend, and I plan to do all _sorts_ of things to make you forget."

"No, we won't," he corrected in a dead voice, which she had to strain to hear.

Hoping that she had misheard him, Marian stilled and walked around so she could see his face, fearlessly meeting his gaze now that the focus was off her own secrets. "What are you saying, Severus?" she asked anxiously.

"We have to put off the wedding. Right now, it's too dangerous. I still have enemies that have proven themselves more than willing to act. If I give you my name, I place a target on your back, and that is totally unacceptable to me," he said firmly.

Marian stared at him for a long time, but he was immovable. He had a particular talent for appearing impenetrable, she thought ruefully. She felt a sharp sting of disappointment, because this man was making her absolutely crazy. She didn't know if she would be able to keep her hands off him until the _weekend_, and now he had postponed their marriage_ indefinitely_. Still reeling from the rumors she had heard about him and blanketed with dejection, she didn't protest or try to coax him into a better frame of mind as she might otherwise have done. Instead, she asked resignedly, "You are resolved?"

He nodded, and she inquired nonchalantly, "Are we still engaged? Do you want your ring back?"

Marian knew that they were, and that he didn't, but was unable to resist twisting the knife a little, and showing him exactly how many steps back they were taking here. Severus had hoped that she would argue with him and talk him out of his decision, enumerating all the reasons why getting married now was a _good_ idea, and it stung that she seemed so willing to give him up and hand back his ring—even if she _was_ only bluffing. Severus glanced up at her with a flash of pain and murmured, "Stop. You know that I don't want that. Please, just don't-."

He paused and seemed to run out of words. Taking in the way his eyes devoured her, Marian felt slightly vindicated when she realized that his craving for her equaled what she felt for him, so she answered, "Alright," as gracefully as she could manage and left the room after kissing him softly on the forehead. She felt a pressing need to get out of the house for a while.

Marian whiled away the afternoon in the yard, pruning plants, wandering about and generally feeling very depressed. She couldn't spend another second poring over the psychology books. Somehow they made her nightmares feel too realistic. Today she just wanted to exist in limbo.

The weather was unseasonably warm, and she and Ms. Bear had eventually traveled far up the distant ridge, leaving Severus at home in the lab. It hurt when she thought back to her original plans for the day. She should have been finding and booking a place for them to stay on their honeymoon, calling her relatives and letting them know about the date, finding a chapel, crafting her wedding dress. But now all that seemed as insubstantial as smoke. In one breath, Severus had placed all of her hopes out of reach.

The childish part of her felt extremely vexed over this—Severus was supposed to be her reward. She had never been so completely captivated by anyone before. Marian had spent her life acting so disinterested around men that it had once prompted her father to say that she had the 'gift of celibacy'. But he had not known the truth. She burned with passion as much as any other woman, but had never met a man that rivaled the fascinating men of literature and film. Since she had believed in the possibility of such men existing, and also believed that she had only one shot when it came to choosing a partner, she had held off, encased in ice, in perpetual romantic stasis...until Severus.

She had wanted him almost from first sight, and had instinctively trusted him. She adored him, and it had been this adoration that had prompted her to take her nest egg, her most valuable possession, and lay it at the feet of Voldemort on the slim hope of being able to stay in England to help Severus. The crown had made up the lion's share of her Romanian treasure. She could have retired on it, but the rest of her jewels would only allow her five years without working-possibly ten.

But they had sacrificed for each other, spent three long years pining, had suffered through a long and costly war. Now, they ought to be able to enjoy its spoils. She wanted him to belong to her, and his body drove her a little wilder every day. She could not face a celibate winter closeted with him in the house—that way certainly lay madness. Sighing, she wandered farther and farther from home, but was unable to escape her racing, melancholy thoughts.

Severus left off his work in the lab after a few hours, and set out to look for Marian. He was worried that his news had upset her, and she had been acting so strangely already. The spy roamed all over the house, but met with no sign of her or the puppy. Leaving the common area, he headed back towards the bedrooms and paused outside the door to her study. He opened it cautiously, feeling a flicker of disappointment when he realized that the room was unoccupied.

And then he noticed several books lying strewn about her desk. Some lay open and all had certain pages marked. His blood surged with excitement—could these be _the_ books? The secret books that had caused so much trouble between them when she had slipped off to St. Mungo's in the night to seek them? He had longed for confirmation that her story was true and that she hadn't been off having a 'discussion' with Black. Here was the evidence, because even from the doorway he could see the red St. Mungo's stamp across the tops of the pages.

His feet seemed to draw him closer of their own accord, but when he looked down at the first title, his blood seemed to freeze in his veins. _'Sexual Assault: The Aftermath'_ it read. With a sort of crawling horror he read the cover of the next book, _'Surviving Sexual Battery'_. And then the one after, _'Intimacy after Violence'_.

_No_. This simply couldn't be. When could it have…? And why hadn't she told him? He would have been more gentle with her. He would have...Had she been assaulted the other night, at the party? Or had it happened earlier, during the war, and perhaps those men at the party had known about it and mentioned it to her—used it to taunt her? He slid down to the floor, feeling completely hamstrung, and leaned against her desk, staring unseeingly for a very long time.

For a while, the fearless, agile mind of Severus Snape shut down, finally running up against something so horrible that even he couldn't process it—he that had looked evil in the face and remained impassive. But she was his one precious thing. So sacred, beautiful…innocent. To think of her falling into violent hands was too much for him. Her thoughts and ways were lovely and creative, and she brought sunshine and sweetness into his dreary world. This wasn't—_could not_ be true.

Marian made her way back to the house when the sun began to set. The temperature had been dropping rapidly and she was eager to warm herself in front of the fire. But when she opened the door, she saw that all was empty and cold. Absentmindedly starting a fire in the hearth, she decided to look for something to eat. She quickly lost interest, and made her default meal, which was a can of soup heated in the microwave. The witch sat down on the couch to eat it alone. When Severus finished working, she would find something better for him; but for now, she enjoyed the piping-hot liquid and wished that things were different. She should be Severus' wife, and he should be safe and appreciated by the wizarding world and not be suffering from hideous, twisted memories.

At that moment, Marian was wishing very hard that she had someone to talk to, and, as if in response to her summons, the fire suddenly flared up with an incoming Floo call. The number of people that it could be was relatively slim; she suspected either Harry, Draco or Tonks, and felt warm relief when she realized that it was the third person.

Tonks looked a little out-of-sorts when she saw that Marian had answered the Floo, since she had called to report back to Severus. But she and her friend had many things they ought to discuss. Rather desperately, and with no preamble, Marian implored, "Tonks, when you went to question those Death Eaters, and they told you 'horrifying things'…what were they?"

Tonks blinked. This had _not_ been what she had expected from her friend.

"Oh, well, you know the sorts of things they did—and most of them _were_ terrible. But you know I can't give you specifics about what Aurors found out during official interrogations. I don't want to compromise any upcoming trials," Tonks hedged.

Not to be put off, Marian pushed forward, "I don't need to know specifics—just general information."

With furrowed brow, Tonks nodded for her to continue. For the life of her, she couldn't understand what the Death Eaters had done to get Marian so riled up. It had been her understanding that _Trotter_ was to blame for her friend's disquiet.

"Did they ever talk about…rape?" the dark-haired girl asked tentatively.

"Merlin, Marian, what's going on?" Tonks demanded in consternation.

"Tell me! Did they?" she asked, her agitation increasing as the conversation progressed.

"Well…yes, I suppose. I mean, they implied it. A couple of them made filthy jokes at my expense-about what they'd like to do to me, or what they had done to other 'blood traitors', that sort of thing. But as a female Auror, I tend to let that kind of talk roll right off my back. You have to, because it seems to be the inevitable go-to response of most of them when they feel their backs are to the wall during an interrogation," she replied pragmatically.

"Did they ever talk about _actual_ rapes that had occurred? I mean, did they ever tell you that sexual assault was used as a…as a punishment? That they did it to each other?" Marian blurted, anguish seeping into her tone.

"_What?_ You mean, Death Eater-on-Death Eater?" she asked incredulously.

"Yes," she answered adamantly.

Tonks blinked, and a look of comprehension dawned on her face. "So_ this_ is what has you so upset—this is all about _Snape_. The way you were talking, I thought something had happened to_ you_," the Auror said, looking profoundly relieved.

But Marian misunderstood her friend and began to flush with anger. "Tonks, he's my whole_ life_! I would rather have suffered in his place—_a thousand times over_! Please, tell me what you know," she begged.

Tonks sighed and shifted, trying to toss her hair over her shoulder, because it kept slipping forward and brushing her cheek. It was the first time she had grown her hair out in quite a while, and she found it difficult to get used to how it constantly made its presence known. "I think that whatever you heard was meant to wind you up. I'm not telling you this only to make you feel better, but because it's the truth. I have never heard about Death Eaters taking advantage of each other sexually, or of them being ordered to do it. I _do_ know that just about everyone _else_ was fair game to a Death Eater—Muggles, Muggle-borns, 'blood traitors', etc., but the Death Eaters themselves had a certain status, and it sounds very unlikely to me that their dignity would be compromised in this way. It's possible that it happened, and that they just didn't talk about it, but I find it not very probable.

"Aurors gossip, and I have never heard of an instance where such a thing has occurred—and we've heard just about everything else, believe me," she answered straightforwardly.

"But Trotter was only trying to upset the Malfoys….so why would he involve _Severus_? They talked about him after the Malfoys had already left. And I didn't even recognize the other man's voice—and he was the one that said all of those terrible things. I think they called him Keller," Marian answered softly, still hurt, but hopeful.

"Keller?" she asked with narrowed eyes.

Marian nodded uncertainly. "Oh, _he's_ an _ass_….I think you'd better tell me everything that happened," Tonks answered grimly.

Marian related the entire conversation, feeling secure in the knowledge that Severus had been in his lab for hours and that she had heard no footsteps. When she finished, her friend's fine features were contorted in a grimace of anger.

Tonks said grimly, "I think the conversation was staged—a perfect opportunity to get back at the Malfoys, and back at you. Trotter has a strange preoccupation with you. I often noticed him watching you at meetings, and even after you officially left the Order, he constantly mentioned you and asked me about you—in a mocking way, of course. But he is a _very_ good Auror, bull-headed in the extreme, but highly observant. He might have cottoned on to your feelings for Snape.

"Have you seen the paper today? Well, Snape made the front page. Apparently, he strolled right into Auror headquarters just as everyone was getting off work on the evening of the party. And, come to think of it, I recall that Keller showed up late that night, so he _might_ have seen him there. In fact, I'm sure that's what must have happened. He must have told Trotter and then they cooked up the whole scheme. What was the other guy's name?" she asked, her confidence returning as she came into possession of the details.

Tonks enjoyed clearing up mysteries. She and Marian were a lot alike in that way, although Tonks would claim that she herself took a more hands-on approach. Her friend might agree with her on a superficial level, but knew perfectly well that lurking curses were just as deadly as live criminals. When Marian replied that she thought the last one's name was 'Jenkins', Tonks made a sound of exultation.

"Those three are thick as thieves….And trust me, if Jenkins sounded neutral and disgusted by what the others were saying, it was by design. He's the cleverest of the three, and I'd bet all my galleons that he came up with the entire thing," Tonks crowed.

Marian frowned. "But if that's true…I still don't understand. Why me? Why would they think that talking about Severus would hurt _me_? Even if they knew that he _was_ alive?" she asked, doubt warring with her eagerness to believe Tonks' theory.

Her friend laughed aloud and answered, "Marian, anyone that carefully observed you knew that you had a thing for Snape. I knew…the children knew…Molly and Remus…Sirius knew, but wouldn't accept it because he's so damn stubborn. But Trotter had his eye on you, and it doesn't take a genius to make the connection between you and Snape, since you both appeared out in public for the first time since the final battle—_on the same day_.

"….Trotter has been asking about my 'pretty little traitor of a friend' and wondering where she got off to, and if she was 'ashamed to show her face now that the war is over'. But those were thinly-veiled attempts to gather information about you. He either loathes you, or is fascinated by you—I suspect both. And he's hated Snape ever since he made a mockery of him at that Order meeting. Guess this was his attempt to get back at you."

"I hope you're right….Tonks, I couldn't stand it if it were true…if they had touched him—sodomized him," she exclaimed brokenly.

In a suddenly hard voice, Tonks asked, "If it _were_ true, do you think you would be able to get past it?"

"What?" she blinked, and answered slowly, "It's not about _me_—I just want to make sure that _he_ is able to move past it, and to help him—any way that I can."

"Are you sure? Because you have really come unraveled over this rumor. Even Snape is worried about you. You're fixating on it, and that's not healthy," her friend admonished.

"Well, how would _you_ feel?" Marian asked in a strangled voice, "Thinking that the man you love had been—worse than tortured—and that the perpetrators were going around bragging about it to Aurors."

"I would be upset and angry, of course. But what worries me is that maybe you're…maybe you secretly think that what they did makes him less of a man. That he should have died before he let that happen to him—_especially_ if it happened more than once (if the word of those rat bastards is true, which it probably isn't)-and the idea that it _did_ happen and that the rapists survived to tell the tale makes you think that he's weak…or that he _liked_ it. Maybe you think he should have killed them to 'reclaim his manhood', and that it's shameful that he didn't. Maybe this is really about _you_," Tonks goaded, pausing for the anticipated reaction from Marian.

Suddenly awash with rage, Marian clenched her fists and spat, "How can you_ say_ that? It's a lie!"

"_Is_ it a lie? Are you certain?" her friend insinuated, "Many women in your position have felt this way. It has poisoned their marriages, because even though they loved their men, they never truly respected them again in the way that they deserved-and a relationship with love but no respect, well, it's basically what you have with your pet."

Trembling with righteous anger, Marian declared vehemently, "There is no one like Severus! No matter what happened to him, he is still more of a man than all the others that crawl on the face of the earth! He is unspoiled, unbroken—virtuous and good-the best of men."

Tonks was unfazed by Marian's passionate declaration, which she had provoked on purpose. "I'm glad that you feel that way," she said evenly, "I thought you would find your way back to the heart of the matter eventually, but I've never been good at slow-walking people where they need to go. You do love him and respect him, but you needed to remember it—and to let nothing else cloud your vision. You had heard terrible things about him, and were justified in your horror. But you don't need to be thinking about revenge or anything like that. This is a trust issue between you and Snape, and you need to be honest with him and work it out.

"If you absolutely must know the truth-no matter how fatal it may prove-you should go to him about this, not me. He is the only one that can tell you about his own experiences with any degree of accuracy...Besides, if you can't tell him the truth—even when it's terrible—how can you think you deserve to know his secrets? Or hope to have a happy marriage with him? …Speaking of that, have the two of you set a date yet?" she asked, in an obvious effort to change the subject. Tonks was equally at home with melancholy and with mirth, and often skipped between the two in conversation, sometimes making the transition with jarring abruptness.

Several expressions flitted through Marian's light eyes. First she was stunned, then admiring, and finally sheepish. "We _had_ thought this weekend—Saturday or Sunday. Our plan was to do it as soon as possible after Severus revealed himself to the Ministry….but it's been a rather…_hard_ week…" she trailed off.

Tonks snorted with laughter and retorted, "Well, whatever the plan is, you had better lay it out soon. It's already the middle of the week. A wedding this weekend is rushed—even for an elopement."

Marian gathered herself together with a shuddery breath and said in defeated tones, "It won't be this weekend—or probably any time soon. After he read the paper this morning, he postponed our wedding indefinitely."

Frowning, Tonks said, "That seems like a bit of an overreaction. Before you derailed me with all your questions about Death Eaters, I meant to tell you that the Spinner's End fire is part of the reason I called."

"What about it?" Marian asked hopefully.

"Well, first of all, I wanted to tell you both that I'm really sorry. It's a pretty miserable way for Snape to be welcomed back from the dead….I've looked over the case myself, and unfortunately, what Stevenson said in the paper was all too true. I seriously doubt that it will be solved. But there was one other thing I felt I should mention….There was a Dark Mark floating over the house. The Aurors dispelled it before the reporters got there," she relayed, almost apologetically.

"So Death Eaters did it?" she asked in consternation.

"Not necessary," her friend replied, "Many people know that the spell to cast the Dark Mark is '_Morsmordre_'. See? Even_ I_ know it. So it could have been a Death Eater, but I think we've nabbed just about all of them, and the rest are scrambling for the borders as fast as their stolen brooms can carry them. As a matter of fact, the majority of captured Death Eaters speak positively of Snape, admiring his survival skills. A few of the diehards curse his name, but we really took out all but a handful of those during the final battle….No, I think it's more likely—and this is _only_ my hunch-that someone else wanted his house burned and thought the Death Eaters would make a convenient scapegoat, and the Dark Mark would also highlight the belief among some that Snape remains a Death Eater. If I were a betting woman, I might place my money on an Auror."

"That's really odd. If Trotter really hates me enough to make me believe those things about Severus, then I suppose that he _could_ burn Severus' house down, although he doesn't really seem like the rule-breaking type, and Severus never really did anything to him to earn his undying hatred. There was that incident when he took up for me at a meeting, but Sirius did the same thing and Trotter didn't burn _his_ house," the American mused.

"I'm not saying it _was_ Trotter—just that it's not outside the realm of possibility. You _do_ know that he only recently came back to work after a suspension, right?" Tonks asked.

"A suspension? For what?" Marian asked curiously.

"Rumor has it—and it's just a rumor, mind you—that he was caught dueling another wizard when there were Muggles present," she said, allowing her smirk to show for the first time.

Marian snorted with laughter and retorted, "Well, that was certainly stupid of him."

"People do really stupid things when they're angry—take a lesson from it, Marian," she said baldly.

Marian glared at her friend, but it was only half-hearted, and replied, "I already decided not to kill anybody—although I can't promise that I won't change my mind later."

Tonks snorted, "Of course you can't—you're a woman. But anyway, _supposedly_, the wizard Trotter was dueling was Snape. Trotter got a suspension for conduct unbecoming an Auror, and it's obvious that his job is the most important thing in his life. But Snape didn't work for the Ministry—he just answered to Dumbledore, so I imagine Trotter thought that the result was highly unfair. He lost something very important to him, while Snape suffered no repercussions.

"Also, I heard that Trotter didn't leave the playing field in the best shape. So that's just insult to injury—or the other way around, I guess….But how soft in the head do you have to be to pick a fight with_ Snape_? Don't get me wrong—plenty of people have wanted to, but…you just _don't_. He's not the sort of person you cross."

"Tell me about it," Marian commiserated, thinking back to their fight two nights before, "If he duels half as well as he argues, I _really_ wouldn't want to go there….Do you know what they were fighting about?"

"Marian, I don't even know for a fact that they _were_ fighting. But if I had to guess, I would say that you had something to do with it. Trotter probably said something ugly about you and Snape called him out. Has he never talked about it? Well, anyway, I'm going to ask around, and see what I can find out. Maybe one of Trotter's cronies will have looser lips than he does," the young Auror said consolingly.

"Thanks. I really appreciate it, and I think you're right about those Death Eaters and Severus. I've been handling this all wrong, and I'm going to talk to him tonight. I know he's been worried, and that I've been making him unhappy. I just didn't want to hurt him, you know? …I've been doing research, but in the meantime I've been trying not to touch him, not knowing if physical contact was what he needed—or if he needed to initiate it himself or-" she broke off, throwing her hands in the air in frustration.

Tonks shook her head and said, "That poor man. You don't tell him what you're thinking and then you suddenly start avoiding his touch—just days before your wedding…"

"Put like that, it does sound rather bad," Marian observed.

Her friend rolled her caramel-colored eyes in amused exasperation and said, "He must be feeling pretty insecure right now. I imagine that he thinks you're rejecting him. It also probably has something to do with his decision to put off the wedding. I'll bet he thinks you're getting cold feet and is trying to do everything he can soften the future blow, in case you decide to hurt him."

Marian buried her face in her hands and murmured, "He did say something about 'cold feet' the other night, but I didn't really notice his insinuation at the time...Merlin, Tonks! I keep doing everything wrong with him….Everything feels so natural, and then I start_ thinking_…and_ thinking_…and foul it all up!"

"It's to be expected," Tonks said with a shrug, "You're new to romantic relationships and you're learning. Most people were going through this stuff back in their teens. But don't worry. The learning curve is steep, but you_ will_ get there—you have to; you love each other."

Marian looked slightly embarrassed, but she appreciated Tonks' honesty. Lately, she had come to realize the witch's wisdom, as well. "Tonks, I can't thank you enough for what you said. You've really given me hope and helped me find my center. I had just about given up my dreams of a lethal revenge, but schemes still filled all my thoughts. Well, and I thought about what they had done—the act itself-I relived it over and over. And it has made me _ill_. All these poisonous, corrosive thoughts….I should have been thinking about_ him_—really thinking about him, and how my actions were affecting him, Instead, I was imagining this fragile, mentally-altered version of him and reacting to it, rather than to the real man I know."

"Don't worry about it. You heard something incredibly traumatic. You're just used to thinking of yourself as a single, independent entity and not as part of a couple that collectively tackles problems. But it's not too late to mend this situation—Look on the bright side, you didn't go out and kill anybody," Tonks said conciliatorily, a hint of sly amusement threading through her words.

Marian smiled wryly and answered playfully, "No, but I _have_ drawn up detailed plans….Never mind. You're an Auror. I shouldn't be telling you this."

And then they were both grinning, and everything suddenly looked a lot brighter for Marian. Her mood had improved significantly since the beginning of the conversation, and she asked, "By the way, _you_ Flooed _me_; yet we've done nothing but talk about my problems this whole time. I'm sure you had news of your own and other things to talk about. How is Teddy? And are things better with Remus?"

"Teddy is still as cute, loud and naughty as he was when you saw him on Monday, and I managed to get Remus to agree to go house-hunting this weekend. It's sort of as a concession to me because his scheme of going into business with Sirius looks like it's going to become a reality. They've already applied for a license from the Ministry.

"But actually, when I Flooed, I had planned to talk to Snape," she answered matter-of-factly, "The last time I called here, he told me that Trotter had said something to upset you, and so I went to speak to him. Predictably, he played innocent and said that he hadn't seen you all night and had no idea what you might have overheard him say, because he was on his best behavior, and only there to congratulate Remus and me on our son—blah, blah, blah. You get the gist. He was obviously feeding me a lot of bull, but I didn't have enough information to really dig. Tonight I called Snape because I wanted to see whether you had told him anything new. Also, he had made me promise to report back after I talked to Captain Doucheus Baggimus."

Marian snickered. "What an apt title," she replied, and then added, "Tonks, please don't say anything else to Trotter or the others. If it's a lie, then a point for him, because he has hurt me very badly. I have to commend his subtlety, because he nearly broke me without laying a hand on me-I can't even prove that he meant me harm. And if he burned Spinner's End...well, it doesn't look like we'll be able to prove _that_ either," she continued grimly.

"I'm not sure what I'm going to do about them, or about the Death Eaters if my nightmare turns out to be true, but anything I do now will directly affect Severus. I can't do anything critical without his approval. It just wouldn't be right….My actions could compromise him," she finished, head bowed in thought.

"Yes, they could….And I'll promise not to say anything else to Trotter and the others, but I _have_ been having the strangest premonitions lately," she confided deviously.

"Have you now?" Marian asked drily, playing along, her lips twitching in a grin.

In mock-seriousness, Tonks continued, "Yes, I've recently switched tea manufacturers, and I think the new brand may have sparked a touch of divination. Anyway, I'm getting a vision as we speak...Oh, dear! I'm afraid that I'm predicting _very_ unpleasant things for Trotter in the near future. _'Something dark. Grave peril...I am afraid that he is in grave danger'_. Bad karma and all that, you know," Tonks said airily, with a rather wolfish grin.

Marian snickered, but quickly sobered. "We seem to have made quite an enemy for ourselves," she said sadly, "I don't know why he can't just leave us alone. He has his job back, after all. And if he was the one to burn Spinner's End, then he has two points, because he was far more successful at hurting us than he knew. Now he has cost me my wedding to Severus. Without proof—and there will _be_ no proof-Severus will see a whole world full of possible suspects—and consider it 'far too dangerous' for me to be his wife."

"Then you'll just have to…persuade him," Tonks said evilly.

Her friend sniffed in derision, "Please. I hardly have the skills for something like that."

In astonishment, Tonks exclaimed, "Are you kidding me? You guys are waiting until you're married to get it on. And this man has waited for sex his whole life. Just be a little devious and work what nature gave you, and he'll soon cave. In fact, he'll _beg_."

"Not Severus. He's made of iron," she said wryly.

"No, Marian. He's a man—a man in love with you-and he's made of the same stuff as other men. Blood and_ flesh_," Tonks argued adamantly.

"I suppose," her friend replied dubiously.

But this wasn't enough for Tonks, and she pushed forward strenuously, "Remus thinks that I'm not cautious enough, but if I had been, I never would have caught _him_. Sometimes you have to go outside your comfort zone and take a gamble. Look at Cleopatra—she needed to ask for Caesar's help to regain her crown, and she couldn't get in to see him by normal means, so she had herself rolled up in a carpet and carried through enemy lines, until she was deposited right at his feet. And then, using her wit, sex appeal and audacity, she won him over to her way of thinking. She claimed his heart and his army."

Startled that Tonks had referenced the woman that Marian so often compared herself to in her thoughts, always coming away lacking, she murmured, "It's so odd that you know about her! I didn't realize that you had studied Muggle history."

"Muggle history? Not particularly. But I've spent years trying to win over a man I couldn't have, and I took lessons wherever I could get them. When I heard that a Muggle woman had existed, who had possessed average looks, but had enthralled the two most powerful men in the world through charm and force of personality alone…well, you can bet that I paid attention!"

"You're a clever, dangerous woman, Tonks," Marian replied amusedly, "And Remus is very lucky to have you working _for_ him."

"That's what I keep telling him," she answered airily, before adding, "Well, it sounds like you have quite a lot to do tonight, so I suppose I'll let you go. But remember—he can be yours in a moment if you want him. Channel Cleopatra. Just…._lure him in_."

Laughing self-deprecatingly, Marian answered, "Well, I certainly plan to try. Good night, and say hello to everyone for me!"

"I will. And good luck!" Tonks responded with a winning smile.

With a ghost of a smile on her lips, Marian turned away from the cheerful fire and stretched her back. Out of the corner of her eye, she suddenly saw a black shadow, hovering immobile in the doorway.

"How long have you been there?" she asked, rising warily to her feet, careful not to trip on her skirt as she turned to face the spy. Marian felt curiously numb when she thought of what he might have heard. After all, she had resolved to tell him everything herself, and if he had already overheard, it would just save time. But she had needed to talk to _someone_, and the experience of unburdening herself to Tonks had given her the emotional catharsis necessary to face Severus without distress.

There was a veritable storm of emotion taking place in Severus' black eyes, but in neutral tones he answered, "Almost from the first."

She took a deep breath, poised to apologize, and eyed him with trepidation. He had obviously heard everything, but didn't seem destroyed by her revelation. In fact, he looked…relieved. Suddenly, he moved towards her, black robes swishing with his speed. "Thank God," he exclaimed brokenly, startling Marian.

"What—what are you on about?" she asked him, still shaken, but nevertheless clinging to his large frame as he kissed her frantically all over her forehead, cheeks and hair.

"I went into your study and saw those books. I thought that _you_ were the one that had been hurt—that I hadn't been able to protect you. Marian, I couldn't stand it! I have been dying inside all day," he exclaimed passionately, clasping her to his body so tightly that she lost her breath for a moment, before steering her towards the couch.

"You thought—_me_? So were they wrong? About you?" she asked, hope creeping into her tone.

"We need to talk," he replied, suddenly serious, and he sat down beside her, taking her hand in his and gently caressing her arm with the other.

She nodded, and he began, "I understand why you didn't come to me about what you heard, although you should have. I know that you didn't want to hurt me, but I am not fragile. There is nothing that I would willingly hide from you. Marian, you have been suffering without cause, because nothing like this has ever happened to me."

Color slowly began to return to her cheeks, and she breathed easier for the first time in days. "I'm so glad," she murmured, and shocked herself when she began to cry with sheer relief. She pulled his face down to hers and kissed him long and deeply, smiling through her tears.

When they separated, he said, rather breathlessly, "In fact, it is one of the stranger stories I've ever heard. No one with any knowledge of Voldemort's character would suggest such a thing. He disliked the physical, infinitely preferring the mental and the magical. He was originally a very handsome man, but didn't even consider pausing his experiments to extend his life when they began to warp and destroy his good looks. He disapproved of human sexuality, considering himself above it. Because of my extended celibacy and the fact that I never showed an interest in anyone, he assumed I was a man after his own heart, and it brought me favor."

"I see that _Voldemort_ wouldn't be interested in rape, but he would know that his followers might. He could have instituted it as a punishment-establishing a pecking-order," she ventured. She believed him, but found that hearing his arguments further soothed her fears.

"The Dar-Voldemort much preferred magical punishments. He considered anything else to be primitive and Muggle. He was a great fan of the Cruciatus and Slicing hexes, but he had an extensive repertoire of indescribably painful spells to choose from-when so motivated," he replied, shivering with remembrance.

"We don't have to talk about this anymore if you don't want to," she said softly, placing a gentle hand on his back.

He glanced at her and his eyes danced with amused affection. "No, I think that we had better get this all out of the way. I don't want you to have any doubts about what I'm telling you. The_ last_ thing I need is for you to take it upon yourself to pull an Edmond Dantes against the surviving Death Eaters," he responded drily, silencing her with a look when she shifted beside him, as though she might protest his words.

"Death Eaters were his elite forces. We thought ourselves better than everyone else, and received punishment from Voldemort only. Say what you will about him, he had an uncommon knowledge of human psychology. He needed us to work together, and never would have used us as instruments on which to perpetrate unforgiveable acts on our fellows. The very idea is preposterous. Voldemort would have known that he would soon be bleeding followers if he allowed such things. It would be bad enough for recruitment, but what do you actually think I would do if several of them abused me in this way? Do you think that I would forget and play nice with them afterwards?" he asked, peering at her keenly.

"No...I really don't know. I guess I can only imagine what_ I_ would do in that position," she answered slowly.

"And?" he prodded, although his lip quirked, and she knew that he anticipated her next words.

"I would survive the night, and I would remember every one of them. Afterwards, I would kill them at my leisure," she answered matter-of-factly.

He nodded approvingly. "It may not be the best course, but it is what I would do as well-Dumbledore and Voldemort be damned," his voice hitched when he said Dumbledore's name, but he continued resolutely, "They would never live to try it a second time, I can assure you. Voldemort knew me—in many ways, very well. He would know that such a thing would cost him my loyalty and many of his servants."

Marian clasped his hand, and for a moment they were co-conspirators again, warriors, kindred spirits. "Marian, the Death Eaters committed atrocities against everyone—except each other. The worst they did to each other was back-bite….Have I eased your heart?" he asked.

"Much more than that. You have brought me back from the dead," she said fervently, running her hands over him, until he trembled and caught them up in his.

With a mischievous smile, she purred, "Now that the darkness has passed, all that remains is for me to convince you to marry me."

"Marian, it's not safe…" he admonished, but the catch in his voice when she leaned forward and kissed him behind his ear caused his words to lose some of their force.

"I know how you feel, but I look forward to…persuading you…with well-reasoned arguments, of course," she murmured, punctuating her words by kissing down his jaw and finally taking his soft bottom lip into her mouth.

She sucked gently and quickly followed up her advantage with her tongue when he parted his lips in a gasp. Marian could sense herself becoming quite a good kisser, now that she finally had opportunities to practice. She could make Severus aroused and needy much more quickly than she used to be able to, and that knowledge was a powerful aphrodisiac indeed. "Don't make me wait. I _must_ have you," she breathed ardently.

He made no response, but she could feel his pulse racing, and noticed that his hands were clenched in a white-knuckled grip at his side. She placed her palm on the robe covering his thigh and slowly stroked up to his hip, before teasingly sliding the tips of her fingers back down, and letting them linger provocatively on his inner thigh, kissing him all the while. She took his hand and placed it on the laced front of her gown, bringing it to cradle her breast. Leaning up to whisper in his ear, she panted, "Marry me. After all, I won't be in any danger in the _bedroom_…and I have no plans to leave it for days…weeks…"

It maddened her that his robes covered so much, but she gently took his long-fingered hand, which seemed to massage her breast with a will of its own, and brought it to her lips, running them over the silky texture of his palm. Their eyes met and she held his burning gaze as she flicked the tip of her tongue out to taste his skin. The action wrung a gasp from his lips, and he closed his eyes for a moment to fight for control. But he couldn't keep them closed for long, especially when she flexed her other hand around his thigh. Marian placed a small, teasing lick on the inside of his wrist, and he swore under his breath. She continued to hold his eyes boldly, basking in their intensity, all the while projecting highly impure thoughts with her own. While rhymically squeezing his thigh, she sucked the end of his forefinger into her mouth, making him toss his head back and groan wantonly. He nearly came undone when she engulfed his sensitive fingertip in her tight heat, and when she added her tongue...sweet mother of Merlin.

Marian lost herself in the seduction, passionately using her mouth on his finger the way she had often fantasized doing to_ another_ part of him. Until Severus, she had been innocent, but that could in no way be equated with ignorant. She had very definite and very provocative ideas about what she wanted. After a few moments of this exquisite torture, she released his finger regretfully and sighed, "Just think about it," into the hypersensitive shell of his ear.

The wizard had tried to restrain himself and to remain passive throughout their encounter. It drove Marian crazy when he resisted her-she could_ feel_ the tension building in his body, all of that..._potential energy_. Knowing that he wanted it, but wouldn't let himself have it stimulated her curiosity. It caused her to intensify the temptation, to see how far she could push his willpower, to bell the cat, to take hold of the wolf by its ears.

She imprisoned his willing lips in another intoxicating kiss, and then another-one last tingling time. But the drawback to Marian's plan was that she was just as affected as he. The witch rose shakily to her feet, trying to conceal the fact that she was flushed and trembling. She decided that she had better leave now before he gave in and took charge-or before she started begging him in earnest. She exited the room, swollen lips touched with a secret, triumphant smile. Conscious of his eyes on her, she put a little extra sway in her hips.

Marian's withdrawal effectively released him from her sensual spell. Severus stared after her with glazed eyes, and, in his erotic haze, could find nothing wrong with her proposal. After a few minutes, he collected himself, rose to his feet and adjusted his robes. With a predatory gleam in his eye, he glanced after Marian and murmured softly in anticipation, "Oh, _my dear._ I'm afraid that you won't find anything_ safe _about the bedroom."


	44. Chapter 44

Chapter 44: The Two Kinds of Victory

From her vantage point just inside the bedroom door, where she stood breathing deeply and trying to regain control of herself, Marian heard his softly-voiced words. A moment before, she had thought that she could not be more exhilarated and aroused than she already was, but his velvety voice seemed to bypass her ears and course directly through her bloodstream, proving her very, _very_ wrong.

Marian had barely survived phase one of _Operation: Seduce Severus_. She didn't know if she could continue to torture him without spontaneously combusting. Every now and then a tremor still passed through her, and her body was racked and throbbing with unfulfilled desire. She felt like a superheated liquid, heated beyond her boiling point, and yet not boiling. It was maddening, and she prayed that he surrendered before she did.

Knowing better than to attempt sleeping next to him in her current state, she helped herself to a dose of freshly-brewed Dreamless Sleep from the medicine cabinet and changed into her nightgown. Belatedly, she realized that she had offered him nothing to eat, and took a few steps towards the door to rectify the situation. But she had forgotten how quickly this particular draught took effect, and her eyelids began drooping where she stood. Moving as though in a trance, she managed to stumble back to the bed before collapsing on top of the coverlet in a dead sleep.

This was how Severus found her when he entered an hour later. He had been filled with ferocious energy, unable to concentrate on his reading. Eventually, he had crossed the room and poured himself a splash of bourbon with shaking hands, not even bothering to add the ice. He drank without tasting, and it helped steady him—but only a little. The normally imperturbable wizard found himself completely undone by Marian. And the thought of her in the bedroom, possibly waiting for him….Well, he knew that if he entered now that he would agree to anything she suggested. But he was in an unpredictable state, and might just as easily take her right there on the bed, which wasn't his plan—well it _was_, but the timing was all wrong.

When he finally mastered himself enough to face her (rationalizing that_ surely_ she must be asleep by now), he entered the bedroom, and saw her carelessly draped over _his_ side of the bed in a deep, peaceful sleep. In spite of the lust the sight invoked, a wave of tenderness washed over him with more power still. She looked innocent and young, her petal-soft lips moving slightly in her sleep as though she were whispering a prayer. Severus _more_ than loved her. As he gazed on, he felt an unshakeable sense of responsibility for the precious creature before him. He must let nothing happen to her. No matter how long he had to deny himself the physical expression of his love, he would endure, he would—

But at that very moment, when he was at the pinnacle of his selfless reflection, she happened to sigh his name in her sleep. The word felt like a physical caress, and he was hard—instantly. Just like that. _Great Merlin_, but he was in trouble, Severus thought, as he quickly escaped through the side door into the bathroom.

The next morning, Marian woke up alone, tucked carefully under the covers. She might not have known Severus had been to bed at all, if it wasn't for the rumpled sheets on his side of the bed. But he had come in after her and risen before her. Her heart still pounded when she thought back to the night before. Lying back on her down pillow and stretching languorously on the soft, midnight blue sheets, she smiled to herself, remembering his honest, intense responses to her.

Her troubles seemed to have evaporated after Severus' disclosure, and in the face of her revived optimism, the Spinner's End fire no longer seemed like an insurmountable obstacle to her wedding.

She rose and dressed, debating wearing something sensual, but opted against it, wanting Severus to let his guard down. Throwing on her most flattering pair of jeans and a thin long-sleeved shirt, she finished the ensemble with an azure fleece that emphasized her trim waist. She found herself donning Muggle clothes less and less frequently, because Severus always wore wizarding robes and also because she ventured into the magical world far more than the one she had grown up in. Besides, robes felt snug and cozy in the wintertime. But she missed her old wardrobe, and decided that she might as well show Severus a little variety.

Before she could go seek him out, and she was fairly certain that he had made his way to the lab….What _was_ he doing there? …she considered calling her sister for man advice. Elaine had always been popular with men, and had perpetually had a boyfriend almost from the minute she entered puberty. Even though younger, she could probably give Marian a few pointers.

She picked up her cellular phone from where she had casually tossed it onto the bedside table some days ago, and then blinked and stared at it for a moment, slightly surprised. Apparently, she had four missed calls. It had been a long time since anyone had contacted her this way, although after telling her family that she was about to be married, she should have been expecting more communication with them. Glancing at the caller id, she saw that one call was from Elaine and that the other three came from her sister-in-law, Rachel. Curious, Marian decided to return Rachel's calls first. Typically, she only talked to her about once a year. It was unprecedented for her to seek her out.

"Well it's about time you called me back!" her sister-in-law greeted brightly. Rachel's speech was characterized by a clipped precision. She retained little of the drawl that might have revealed her Midwestern origins.

"Marian, congratulations on your wedding! We're all so excited to meet your fiancé. The other night when you called, Andy hogged the phone. So, tell me all about your guy!" she gushed.

She liked Rachel, although this was the most animated she had ever heard her, except when she had been extolling Andy's football triumphs. Rachel was an accountant, and had been her brother's college girlfriend. Marian's family had been surprised that the two had ended up together. Andy had been a football star at the school he had traveled out of state to attend, and they had expected him to choose a woman based on superficial merits alone. But when he had introduced Rachel, she was nothing like the blonde, big-breasted bimbo they had been expecting, although she _was_ very pretty, with silky brown hair and shrewd, almond-shaped hazel eyes. And she was smart, which had been the greatest surprise of all.

Andy possessed an impressive intellect, and he and his twin had even been considered gifted as children, but he hadn't cultured his mind, preferring to focus on sports and video games. Now he worked a dull desk-job with very little mental stimulation, although he displayed a keen wit on occasion, and breathed life into any social gathering.

Marian and Rachel had never had much to say to one another, because her sister-in-law had always plastered herself to Andy's side during visits, displaying no interest in getting to know the other members of the family, although she_ had_ always made a token effort with Andy's twin, Alex, who had resented her for a few years—until he found a woman of his own. But whatever mystery surrounded her, it was obvious that Rachel loved Andy, and she was a good and patient wife to him. Even though her work required her to be neat and meticulous, she lightened up in her own home, and didn't make a fuss over Andy's slovenly habits, or the number of pets he took into their house. Andy had a very kind heart, and couldn't resist any animal that looked hungry or neglected. Others might have called the pound to come pick up the unfortunate creature-Andy had to adopt it.

Marian smiled and confessed, "If I start listing his attributes, I won't be able to stop. But just imagine everything that a man should be…double it….And you still won't have a Severus."

"You have it bad!" Rachel exclaimed gaily, "I can't wait to meet this impressive man. That was one of the reasons I called. Thanksgiving is only a little over a week away, and we wondered whether you both might want to come down and visit. Everyone else will be there and we'll have plenty of space if you want to stay with us. Elaine and Mike always stay in the Holiday Inn that's a few minutes' drive from the house. Alex and Jen usually sleep at our house, but their kids are dying to swim in the hotel pool, and so they finally caved this year and have gotten the suite next to Elaine's. Our home should be really quiet at night, because we'll only have the little one. Jake is going to stay with his cousins."

"I'll bet Shelly isn't too happy about being left out," Marian commented in amusement.

She heard Rachel sigh on the other end of the line. "No, she's been sulking and driving me crazy. But she's only five, and it wouldn't be fair to saddle Jen with her. Shel still gets really whiny when she's tired, and I have enough trouble keeping her to her bedtime. There's no way that she would settle down enough to rest if she was staying in a hotel room with her older cousins," she relayed.

"I guess not," Marian answered wryly, holding the phone to her left ear as she made her way into the kitchen.

She spotted Severus heading towards the lab with a cup of coffee in his hand, and, on a whim, said impishly, "Sweetheart, say hi to my sister-in-law, Rachel."

He rolled his eyes indulgently and murmured, "Hello, Rachel."

With dancing eyes, Marian placed the receiver back to her ear and held Severus' slightly uncertain gaze as her sister-in-law exclaimed in rapturous tones, "Oh, my goodness, Marian! He has the _sexiest_ voice. And that British accent...If melted chocolate could talk, it would sound like him."

Severus heard every word and snorted softly with laughter, before gently placing a hand on Marian's shoulder and bending to kiss her cheek. She watched him with an almost excessive tenderness as he strode quickly away to the sanctuary of his lab. "Hello?" Rachel asked in amusement.

"What? Oh, sorry. I was just watching him walk away….I realize how awful that sounded…" Marian answered, coming back from her daydreams with a flush.

"No comment," Rachel replied, but Marian could tell that she was more than a little amused at her preoccupation.

"Are you two still planning to elope? Because if you're going to get married soon, and aren't planning to have a big wedding, then Thanksgiving weekend would be a great time to do it. The family will already be together…" Rachel said leadingly.

Marian smiled wistfully and answered softly, "You're right. That's a great idea. I would love that….Now, if I can just bring Severus around to my way of thinking…"

"Why _wouldn't_ he agree? You guys are a little old to be afraid of commitment," her sister-in-law replied, with a frown in her voice.

"Thanks for that," Marian retorted drily.

"Stop…you know what I meant. We're almost the same age, so I'm not insulting you or anything. But, why is he putting you off?" she asked bluntly.

Severus' lover sighed and opened the front door. The air carried a distinct chill, but Marian thought that a few minutes of the cold would do her good, help clear her head. "I'm not sure what you know about his job," she began.

"I heard that he's a scientist—chemistry, right?" Rachel inquired.

Marian smiled to herself as she gazed down at the Sorcerer's Stone gracing her ring finger, glinting with an unearthly light. _Chemistry _indeed. "He _is_ a scientist, but he is also a spy. At least, he was until May. Anyway, his identity has been compromised—through no fault of his own. He played his part perfectly to the end," Marian said adamantly, oddly compelled to make sure everyone knew that Severus had not been lacking as a double agent.

"His former enemies have found out that he survived, and someone burned his childhood home to the ground yesterday. Now Severus has said that it's too dangerous for us to go forward with the wedding….Although I think that's ridiculous! He isn't a player anymore, and I think that the burning was an impotent gesture—a parting-shot! We live on a different continent now. We're not in true danger, and even if we are, he can't think that I'd give him up over it," Marian added petulantly.

There was silence on the other line for several seconds after her rushed confession, and finally her sister-in-law whistled and ventured, "A spy? Geez….Now I _really_ want to meet him. But how did you get mixed up in all this, Marian? It sounds like you've certainly been living dangerously since you made your way over to England."

_Oh, if you only knew_. Smiling to herself, she murmured, "It's a pretty long story…"

"Well, you'll have to tell me all about it at Thanksgiving. Hunted spy or not—you're both still invited," she said firmly.

Marian had secretly always thought Rachel a bit flighty, but the truth was that they didn't know each other all that well. They had only met infrequently over the years, but now that most of her siblings had families, they were making more of an attempt to reach out to the others during holidays, so that their children could have the experience of playing with their cousins.

Surprised that Rachel seemed unfazed by her disclosure, she warmed to her slightly and said, "I would love to come and stay with you guys, but I'll have to talk about it with Severus and then get back to you. I think that we'll probably come, but am not sure if we'll be spending the night. He is in rather fragile condition right now and may need to retire early in the evenings. He's still convalescing and needs lots of peace and quiet."

"I didn't know that. I had heard that he had some sort of injury back in May, and that was why you couldn't come to Mike's birthday party….Is he still suffering from the same problem?" she asked in consternation.

Marian took a breath and answered, "Yes, he was attacked…by a giant snake. Its fangs did terrible damage to his chest and neck. He nearly died."

"You've either become the most awful liar since I last saw you, or you've met the most interesting man I've ever heard of," Rachel replied admiringly.

Marian rolled her eyes and answered, "I know how crazy it sounds, but it's true. It was some kind of python, I think. Selectively bred. Its owner turned it on Severus—it was attempted murder. When we come, you'll be able to see the scars for yourself. No matter what he wears, his collars don't quite hide the throat injuries."

"But would you really be better off at a hotel? There you will have to deal with the hotel staff, loud children, people throwing parties in their rooms….We'll keep the house quiet for you. Shelly is always in bed by nine o'clock, and we would give Severus his own guest room," Rachel argued, curious to meet this man that seemed more like a character from a movie than a living, breathing man.

"I didn't mean a hotel….I meant that we might sleep at home, and visit with you during the day," Marian clarified.

"But you still live in Tennessee, don't you?" she asked, after a moment's pause.

"That's right," the witch answered at once.

"Marian, are you only planning to spend one day with us? And are you going to drive all the way to Texas for one afternoon? Because that seems like it would be far more wearing on your sick spy," she retorted.

"No! No…" Marian replied with a laugh, "I plan to spend more than a day with you, but we're not going to drive. Severus and I have…other modes of transportation."

"Do you own a private jet now, Marian?" Rachel teased.

"No. Nothing as slow as that. We can travel almost instantaneously," she said, attempting to clarify her words. At this point, she expected Rachel to catch on, but when she merely said, "Oh. I see," rather dubiously, the witch was slightly taken aback.

For the first time since the start of their conversation, Marian detected skepticism in Rachel's tone. Had Andy really never told her about his sister's magic? Taking a breath, she said apologetically, "I know that you must think I'm a pathological liar, but I ask that you suspend judgment until we meet again in person. I'll explain all the things that seem so inconsistent now. I realize that we don't know each other very well, but I'd like to change that. When we come, I'll tell you my secrets and then you'll understand."

"Alright. Sure thing, Marian," she answered, and Marian sighed internally when she heard a hint of wariness in her answer. She wouldn't be surprised if, when she and Severus showed up for Thanksgiving, they came face-to-face with a team of psychiatrists. The thought that Rachel almost certainly didn't believe her troubled her for a moment, but then she smiled and shrugged. No doubt her story _would_ sound like madness to a Muggle, and she had kept her narrative as Muggle-friendly as she knew how. She hadn't even mentioned wizarding wars or Death Eaters, dark lords or magic spells.

Finally registering the fact that she was shivering, she slowly closed the phone and made her way back into the house, Ms. Bear right on her heels, like a fluffy blond shadow. On a whim, she decided to make some homemade hot chocolate. She had been craving it for days, and the microwaveable packets woefully lacked in flavor.

After a few minutes spent hovering in front of a hot saucepan and salivating over the gorgeous aroma rising off of it, she finally poured the thick contents into two mugs and cast Warming Charms on them. She carried one drink in each hand and made her way out of the kitchen and down the hallway, careful not to spill. To her pleasure, Severus had left the door of the lab ajar. In his own subtle way, he was extending an invitation to her.

She hesitated for a moment in the entrance, watching him as he hovered over two smoking cauldrons, whose fumes mingled together in an array of interesting, iridescent colors. The light seemed to bend and halo around the gaunt wizard, who wore his dark robes with a regal carelessness. As he masterfully worked his magic, his superlative ability shone through and lent a timeless beauty to his stark, graceful form. Contemplating his cauldrons, he appeared every inch the medieval alchemist or classical philosopher. Although he seemed totally engrossed and never turned towards her, suddenly the fumes dissipated and she realized that he must have cast some sort of Stasis Charm on the twin potions.

"Is it safe to come in?" she asked, catching his eye when he turned sideways and began removing his gloves. The man must have known she was there from the start. He really did have preternatural hearing.

"Perfectly," he replied serenely, and then he noticed the mugs for the first time. She saw his sensitive nostrils quiver and he asked, "Chocolate?"

"I was in the mood for some," she confided, stepping towards him. Inexplicably, her action took on an added significance for her. For just a moment, her eyes were opened and she saw that her manner was far more like that of a votary carrying a libation to a shrine than a woman dropping off a drink. She laughed softly, in a tone tinged with self-mockery. Severus eyed her with a raised brow, but she couldn't tell him that she laughed at the insight that she wasn't merely delivering his beverage, but carrying an offering, an offering to Severus the force of nature, Severus the man.

Watching him as she walked, she took in the proud, ruthless lines of his face, his cruel, slender lips and those dark eyes that revealed nothing of his thoughts, but much of his gifts. One glance told her that he missed nothing, that he possessed an unusual mind that combined the highest capacities of reasoning, observation and intuition. But no matter what he saw in her, his face didn't betray it, and neither did his slim, straight body, which seemed always tensed for sudden, explosive action, even in his most languid, casual gestures.

Marian had always been attracted to his face. She hadn't understood why at first, but now she realized that it possessed a curious integrity. There was a certain naked honesty and overwhelming masculinity in its pale, chiseled planes. His eyes, cold and incisive, luminous with dark mystery, pierced their targets with level, forthright glances. Others had called him ugly, which Marian found inexplicable, not grasping that her instantaneous, violent attraction to his looks said more about her own character than she realized.

She had finally seen the one face that embodied all the things she valued, and had known instinctively that she must never completely lose sight of him. She wouldn't be able to bear it if he and the virtues he represented disappeared from her world. And now that he lived with her, she had lost count of the number of times she had watched him sleep and work, suffer torment and struggle to master unfulfilled desire. She had witnessed some of his most personal moments…and yet she never fully got used to his everyday presence in her life.

Each instant with him seemed somehow silvered with light. No matter how absorbed she became in her tasks, she could never completely forget his presence, or the joy that he caused to burn inside her, like a fiery coal in her chest. Just as the jewel of incalculable value that she wore on her finger, the unfathomable wizard never truly escaped her awareness or lost a shade of the meaning she had felt when she first began to ponder his face, figure, his remarkable mind. _Tonks was wrong_, she thought in sudden discouragement. Severus Snape was made of granite and titanium, flame and ideas-not flesh and blood. Marian's hand shook and the ceramic mugs made a slight clanking sound as she placed them down on an unused countertop.

To fill the pregnant silence, he commented slyly, "Perhaps my voice is to blame," referring to the snippet of phone conversation he had overheard.

Severus picked up his drink and barely spared the contents a glance when he took his first sip. He quirked an eyebrow at the unexpectedly rich flavor and came back for a deep, satisfying draught of the warm beverage.

She laughed happily and murmured, "Perhaps it is, but I'll never tell….Is it to your liking, _Professor Snape_?"

"Mmm, yes. It's delicious," he replied, his eyelids drooping for a moment as he savored the drink.

Marian paced over to his side and peered down into the cauldrons. "What are you working on, sweetheart?" she asked curiously.

"An experiment," he answered gravely, before gently tugging the end of her braid and adding, "If it works, it will be a wedding present to us."

His reply heartened Marian, and implied that, in spite of his talk of a delay, he still intended their wedding to take place soon. Suddenly feeling playful, she raised an eyebrow at him suggestively, causing him to blush and mumble, "_No_, Marian….Nothing like…whatever _you're_ thinking…"

Surprised at his uncharacteristic bashfulness, Marian took pity on him, leaning forward to sniff his concoction and inquiring, "You've put it under a Stasis Charm?"

He nodded, regaining his poise in an instant, although his eyes darted quickly back and forth between her and the cauldrons. He realized that she knew little about potioneering, and that it would be almost impossible for her to decipher the nature of the experimental potion he was working on, but he still felt a little nervous to have her examining it so closely. "You shouldn't go about sniffing random experimental potions," he chided, trying to regain his composure, "It could be very dangerous. With some concoctions, the fumes are just as deadly as the taste. Also, many potions that are perfectly harmless when fully brewed are deadly in many of their stages of development."

She colored slightly and inclined her head in acknowledgement. In genuine interest, she asked, "Do Stasis Charms work on all potions?"

"All but a few. There are some that require continuous movement, and are so temperamental that even a magical pause will ruin them. Most allow for breaks. The Wolfsbane didn't, which was one reason why it was so incredibly exhausting to brew," he murmured, taking in her lovely, intelligent gaze as she nodded in understanding. His eyes dropped to caress her neck and her lithe figure, and he felt a little thrill go through him at the thought that this marvel of nature was _his_—his alone.

He took another sip of his drink and prepared to ask about the results of her phone conversation, when Marian took a step nearer to him on the pretext of taking a closer look at his workstation. She had intended to ask him about going with her to visit her family, but found herself inexplicably fascinated by the Potions Master in his natural setting. She loved to observe him work and rarely had the opportunity. It had never occurred to her to intrude on him on his workspace simply for the pleasure of watching him.

He operated seamlessly in the lab, completely in his element. To her, Severus seemed focused and masterful, and his movements possessed incredible artistry and grace. She never admired and wanted him more than when he was in the lab. Somehow, and she wasn't exactly sure how, it was the place where his genius, power and masculinity most often combined with a force that left her reeling from an overwhelming attraction.

"When you were stirring earlier, I noticed that you occasionally changed direction….Why?" she asked in a faint, cracking voice.

Slightly surprised by the question, which none of his students had ever bothered to ask, he replied gravely, "I've found that creating a counter-current sometimes improves the efficacy of the potion by canceling out the forward motion. Surely a paddler understands," he said, eyes glinting with warmth at his witch.

"But you have to _feel_ your way," he continued, taking the surprised widening of her eyes for an answer, "Sometimes you sense that a particular ingredient needs to be emphasized in the mixture, but know better than to upset the Arithmantic calculations by varying the amount. Altering the direction of the stirring is an uncommon technique….I doubt that I am the first ever to utilize it, but I _am_ the first to be published on the subject."

"You know that you're brilliant, don't you?" she asked admiringly. It was a rhetorical question, but he nodded unselfconsciously, like a man perfectly aware of his own worth—at least in this area. The corners of his mouth turned up in the shadow of a smirk, giving her to understand that he knew that he was brilliant, that he knew it was arrogant of him to know, and that he didn't care. She broke into a peal of delighted laughter, and Severus smiled widely in answer, unused muscles responding to the flicker of joy he felt at seeing her happy.

Marian told him confidentially, "I'm going to read all of your work—even the potions articles…_not_ that I'm likely to understand them. But now I'm rather curious."

He laughed aloud, and it made him look young and strangely sweet. "There's no need to bore yourself with that rubbish," he snorted, "It would only be of interest to potioneers, and even them, not very much….But I can illustrate the basic principle for you, if you'd like," he offered, uncertain whether she would decline, her interest not as great as she had pretended.

But Marian's face lit up and she exclaimed, "Yes, please! I would love that."

In spite of himself, he was delighted, and a smile of satisfaction touched his thin lips. "Very well," he purred, "Allow me to fetch the ingredients we'll need for the demonstration."

He had set up stone counters against the three back walls of the room. Severus had completely covered the wall where the door was located with shelves loaded down with ingredients and equipment. It occurred to Marian that it might be wise to do some demolition work in the coming days. Severus' lab looked a little cramped, but knocking out the wall and expanding into the empty room next door might give him the additional space he needed.

After a moment spent tinkering with some of his equipment, he made a few trips to various locations in the room, and finally returned to her when he had procured two cauldrons, two stirring rods, and a few flasks. "There's no need to go through the whole brewing process. I've thought of an abbreviated way to show you what I'm talking about. We'll set up two cauldrons, and you'll pour the first two ingredients into the first one, and then, when you add the third, I want you to stir seven times clockwise. You will then duplicate the process with the other cauldron, except, after the seventh forward stir, you'll give it one counterclockwise stir, and then we'll observe whether there is a difference in your results."

She nodded eagerly, before walking to the side of the room and quickly unzipping her fleece and draping it over his stool. She stood before him in a paper-thin, cotton blouse that skimmed over her curves and emphasized the delicacy of her form. His eyes drank her in like nectar, but he quickly glanced away and procured a pair of dragon-hide gloves for her. They were charmed to size themselves to fit whatever hand they covered. She didn't really need gloves for what they would be doing—he just wanted to see her wear them.

Marian looked over her workstation and took note that all of the ingredients she would be using were clear in color. She joked, "You aren't just giving me three containers of water, are you?"

He favored her with an amused, somewhat long-suffering glance and answered tetchily, "Marian, just because a liquid is colorless and transparent does not necessarily mean that it's water."

She smirked up at him over her shoulder and asked, suddenly all business, "Okay, so how much of the first one do you want me to pour?"

He indicated a line on the beaker with one beautiful translucent forefinger. Marian poured carefully, hyper-aware of his shrewd eyes on her. When it came time to add the second ingredient, she felt Severus' breath on her ear and completely lost her focus, hastily adding the mixture to the cauldron and causing a few drops to splash out onto the counter. "Oops," she murmured, chagrined, glancing up to meet his eyes in apology.

"Don't worry about it. It's only water," Severus responded sardonically.

"You scoundrel!" she shot back, smiling to herself. Severus was too clever for his own good, and she loved it. She elbowed him gently, or rather, she pressed her right shoulder against his chest and leaned into his warmth for the space of a breath.

Pleased that he had succeeded in riling her, he replied with mock-severity, "Mind your cauldron."

"If you finish that sentence and call me a 'dunderhead', I'll have to think of a way to make you suffer," she teased.

He chuckled and murmured, "Marian, I seriously doubt that you could do anything that would make me suffer more than I already am…especially at night."

"That sounds like a challenge," she purred, stirring the cauldron until it turned a cloudy blue.

"You did it—that's the standard color. Don't move the stirring rod for a few moments. Let the mixture stop churning first….Yes, that's it, pull it straight up, but let the tip linger for a moment on the surface so that it won't drip when you take it away…" Severus was momentarily distracted. His skillful hands had been itching to take over the stirring. As much as he loved her and saw everything she did in a rosy light, he couldn't help but hate to see poor stirring technique.

Finally remembering her words, he answered provocatively, "Well, if you feel _challenged_, then by all means, do your worst, my dear. I can take it….Anytime you're ready, Marian."

"Not in the lab. Besides, revenge is a dish best served cold, Severus," she answered primly, as she prepared to begin on the second cauldron.

This time, he crowded her, pressing his torso against her back and placing his large, warm hand over hers to guide the stirring rod, causing her to tremble in spite of her best efforts to look unruffled. Breathing in her ear, he whispered, "Go slowly. And mind how you hold the stirring rod. The slightest angle can yield radically different results—if you change it by a few degrees even for a moment. Hold it upright."

Letting him steer her hand with a skillful grip, she marveled, "There are so many variables! I don't understand how anyone manages to navigate them and create new potions."

With a trace of humor in his lovely low voice, he commented, "It's an exact art. One can become a competent brewer through practice, but a special intuition is needed to be able to invent and modify potions. That is why there are significantly fewer original potions than there are charms and curses."

After he urged her hand to complete the one counterclockwise stir, he stilled her motion. At once, the liquid in front of them turned a pure, aquamarine blue. Its clarity and beauty were far superior to the first potion's, even though its colors were in the same range. "Do you see? _This_ is the better mixture," he confided.

Marian didn't understand why she was so thrilled by their little experiment. But she loved learning new things, and she loved learning them with_ him_. She wanted to be able to appreciate his tremendous talent, which every newly-learned tidbit of potions knowledge made more apparent to her. She felt so privileged to have him. Severus Snape was not just gifted—he was a prodigy.

He began to clean up, and noticed her face fall when he unceremoniously Vanished the contents of their two cauldrons. "We didn't make anything viable," he said apologetically, "But if you like, next time we could brew a potion from start to finish."

Marian brightened at that, and he felt something tighten in his chest in response. He turned away, carefully drying equipment and putting it back in its place, while she watched him from under her lashes with devouring eyes. When he turned around, he saw that she had transfigured his stool into a recliner. "Marian," he complained, "That chair has no place in a lab."

Setting her shoulders, she picked up both of their half-finished cocoas, which were still under the blanketing protection of the Warming Charm, and beckoned him forward. "Maybe not," she answered readily, "But for that matter, neither does a convalescing wizard."

"I'm perfectly alright," he grumbled, but he sank gracefully into the seat and moodily took his mug from her hands. Marian fondly stroked his hair, and then the cloth between his shoulder blades. No matter how many times she touched him, she always hesitated for half a heartbeat before reaching out. She knew that he welcomed contact from her, but it still seemed too wonderful, and she couldn't quite make herself believe it.

Making a swift decision, the witch deftly cast a Cushioning Charm and sank down before him onto the wood, which Severus had covered with magical, nonporous sealant. He half rose, and looked as though he might complain, but Marian forestalled him with one slim raised eyebrow.

"You _are_ better than you were," she conceded, "but you're still on the mend. I know that your lab has been your sanctuary these past few days, days I've spent driving you away…and I'm so sorry! But I've noticed that you haven't been sleeping well this week, and that you are working far more hours than before. I don't want you to exhaust yourself….You don't know what you are to me," she confessed in a hoarse voice, stroking his knee.

He melted at once. Others may have thought him made of stone, but he knew himself to be her slave. Severus evaded her charge, instead saying gruffly, "Love, get off the cold floor. Transfigure another chair, or sit here with me."

But she only leaned against his booted calf, and replied dreamily, "It's alright. If I get cold, I'll join you. But I like leaning against you, and being far enough away to watch your face while we talk."

His eyebrows rose in bemusement, and he murmured, "I do not understand your whims, but alright….I imagine that you want to talk about your recent chat with 'Rachel'."

It wasn't a question, and Marian stroked his calf over his robe, feeling the hard scales of his dragon-hide boots beneath the thick fabric. There were always so many barriers between them. More than anything, she wanted to be able to see him completely. She wanted to run her hands over his pale, sculptured body, and to kiss that living flesh and feel the subtle play of his muscles under her lips. She wanted to witness this unbreakable, self-contained man trembling in ecstasy, to see his face tortured with pleasure-and she wanted to be the one to bring him to such a state.

Shaking her head to dissipate her erotic musings and quickly dropping her eyes, Marian replied, "Exactly. I was surprised to hear from her. We don't talk very often, but apparently she called me several times over the past few days—because of our engagement."

Severus continued to listen impassively, but she knew that she had his full attention. His hand rested on his knee, inches away from face. It embarrassed her how aware she was of those beautiful fingers. Marian continued hesitantly, "In a week, it's going to be Thanksgiving, which has always been a pretty big deal in our family….It's an American holiday that celebrates-"

"I know what Thanksgiving is, Marian," Severus interrupted, his voice dry with fond exasperation.

"_Anyway_," she continued with a slight flush, "It seems that all of my siblings are planning to go to Texas for the event, where my brother, Andy, and his wife, Rachel, live. She called to invite us to stay at their house. The others will be at a hotel, including one of Rachel and Andy's two children…I told her that I had to discuss it with you first, and that we might need to play it by ear, because you're still recovering."

"Ah yes," he broke in sardonically, "You played the 'sick card'."

Marian playfully tugged on the hem of his robe and asked wryly, "Must you be difficult?"

Just as he opened his mouth to issue an acidic retort, Marian forestalled him by hurrying to add, "I told Rachel that we might come and spend time with them during the day, but sleep at our own house at night. But she didn't understand and seemed completely shocked when I suggested that we had the ability to travel quickly between places. Apparently, Andy hasn't told her anything about my magic. I could tell that she thought I was a liar, especially because earlier in the conversation I had told her that you were a spy, and that you had been attacked by a giant snake. I suppose she thought it was some bizarre attempt on my part to reject their house in favor of a hotel—I'm not sure," she finished in a torrent of anxious words.

He frowned, displeased that the other woman had upset Marian. "If she knows you at all, then she should realize that you're a truthful person. She ought to trust you, no matter how strange your story sounds to her," he replied, his protective gaze flitting over her for a moment. He had put aside his terrible doubt of yesterday, knowing that the problem lay with him rather than her. Severus realized that he had deep fissures running the length of his soul. Trust did not come naturally to him. He had been damaged at a young age, and had grown up wary and perceptive, with very definite ideas about human nature. Love wasn't something he had ever really expected to run up against in his own life, and he still didn't quite know how the advent of Marian should affect his calculations.

Something inside her thawed at his words, and she stroked his elegant hand and murmured, "Thank you, dearest…as long as I hold your respect, the rest of the world is welcome to think the worst. I would like to be angry with Rachel, but my story must have sounded completely insane to a Muggle. Besides, she and I _don't_ know each other very well."

He sat up straight and looked her in the eye. "Would you like to get to know her better?" Severus asked suddenly.

"Yes," she answered with a definitive nod, "I've been thinking a lot about what you said before. It would be nice to show myself to my family as I truly am, and to use my powers to benefit them...But they also have children, and children typically aren't good at keeping secrets. They might talk about us to their friends and be perceived as liars and ostracized, or they might break the Statute of Secrecy, or-"

He laughed softly and turned towards her, his face appearing pale and noble under the hanging light. "Every child believes in magic at least a little...If you and I managed to grow up keeping our magical powers discreet, then I highly doubt that your nephews and nieces will bring down the wizarding world. We won't flaunt our ability in front of the children, but if they catch us in an act, we'll just tell them the truth about magic, and explain why they shouldn't talk about it outside the family," he answered mildly.

She sighed and smiled up at him, "You make everything sound so feasible," she murmured drily.

"Most things are," he replied, not missing a beat, meticulously reaching over to smooth an errant wisp of her hair and tuck it behind her ear. He didn't remove his hand from her for several moments. It was as if an electric current ran through her body, rendering him incapable of pulling away. His hand had barely grazed her hair, but he felt unable to break contact, as if, by touching her, he had involuntarily completed a circuit.

"Well, what would you like to do? About the invitation, I mean. You and I had already planned to visit, although we intended a much shorter visit—just a few hours the day before we were to be married…" Marian swallowed hard.

Severus noticed and a muscle jumped in his jaw. But she was looking at his feet and missed the answering flash of pain in his eyes over the canceled wedding. Pushing past her disappointment, she said resolutely, "I don't want to overtax you. They've invited us for longer than a few hours. I expect that they want us to stay for at least three days…and that is a marathon of togetherness that you are _not_ ready for, trust me."

He wandlessly sent both of their mugs soaring back into the kitchen and conscientiously dusted one of Ms. Bear's white hairs from his black robe. After a moment, he lifted his keen eyes to meet hers and declared ironically, "You don't need to worry so on my behalf. I have spent my life divided between socializing with Death Eaters and corralling hordes of the most awful children imaginable. I don't care what your family is like. Anything short of hosts that murder their dinner guests and feed their bodies to pet snakes will be a step up, as far as I'm concerned."

She smiled wanly, and he added seriously, "It will make you happy to go, and it will be good for your relationship with your family."

"But I don't want to overdose you on people that you haven't even met yet," Marian broke in worriedly.

He expanded his seat and raised her by the hand, settling her in beside him. He decided to press the matter. Severus couldn't bear the idea of her 'sacrificing' for him. The thought left a bitter taste on his tongue, and so he finished with an odd fierceness, "You seem worried that I will suffer in silence, when you know perfectly well that is hardly a habit of mine. I plan to go to great lengths to accommodate your relatives. Let them antagonize me—I will keep a clear head. As long as they treat you well they will face no consequences, no matter what they say to me. But by the same token, I am not a doormat—and never will be again."

Marian believed him. He had gotten carried away by ugly memories for a moment, but soon came back to himself and zeroed in on her attentive face, so soft and delicate but for the eyes, in whose cool depths a watchful intelligence flickered like pale fire. They seemed incongruous to the rest of her face—almost shocking. They were the eyes of a person that had made the terrible choices because others couldn't—the steely eyes of a survivor, not a romantic—and yet they held court in a face of graceful femininity, where they were ringed by long, dark lashes that rested against cheeks of rose-tinted satin. He worshipped her face and form, but he felt an affinity with her eyes.

"I don't want you to have to go alone and unsupported when your brothers and sisters will have their wives and husbands with them," he murmured, gazing at her with a peculiar intensity.

Marian shook her head impatiently before she caught herself. The concept of 'support' was rather unfamiliar to her. She had been on her own for a very long time, but his words softened her and she suddenly regretted her automatic denial. The thought that he wanted to care for her in all of her circumstances, not just the dramatic, dangerous ones, warmed her heart and filled her with relief. She hadn't even known that she had been exhausted, but she was. Years of keeping her own council, setting her shoulders to stride forward foot-by-foot into the darkness—_'A__lone, alone, all, all alone. Alone on a wide, wide sea'_….But not anymore.

She held his hand carefully, so very delicately and lightly, as if she knew that she would cling to it with a desperate, clawing grip if she didn't take particular care not to. Severus eyed her curiously. He knew that his words had evoked something in her, but couldn't decipher her mood. After a long pause, he confessed, "Besides, I always want to be where you are. I think you should go—therefore, I think that _we_ should go."

Quickly fleeing the realm of emotion, Severus' words returned to the logical plane, where he was most at home, "Your family is unfamiliar with our magic, and so it would be best for us to agree to stay with them without a struggle. We can explain the truth of things over the course of the weekend, but since they know nothing of magic, talk of portkeying and Apparating on the front end would only confuse them. But later, once we inform them, if they react unfavorably to the news or if staying there becomes too irritating, we can use my snakebites as an excuse to portkey home early. And if we find that my presence becomes intolerable to them, well, I suppose_ I_ could leave early, if you're not ready to go."

She snorted and stroked his hand. "Your presence will not become '_intolerable_' for them. They'll be able to see how kind you are to me…that you love me. You are the most fascinating man I've ever met—and I'm pretty well-traveled. A man like you is born only once every couple of centuries…."

"Oh, stop it!" he interjected derisively, pulling his hand away in a fretful motion. He wanted to believe her words, but couldn't. How could he matter so much to her, when he mattered so little to everyone else? How could she see something beautiful in him? How could she understand? He had to fight the staccato beat of his pulse at his temple and the growing knowledge that had started as a whisper in his heart, replying, _'But I do….She does….And she just may, at that'_.

Marian had broken off and was eying him in thoughtful silence. Her eyes narrowed in determination and she began to speaking in tones devoid of passion. There was a straightforward honesty to her bearing, as she tilted her head up and held his gaze fearlessly, levelly. "Severus, do you remember when I told you that I didn't love Ms. Bear for her attributes, but that my love for her was based on a totally selfless, 'irrational' affection? Well, I was lying, although I didn't know it at the time. I realize now that I don't love her because she's mine, or because she loves me, but because of what she_ is_—because of her _nature_. And it's the same with you. I don't love you because you suffered, or because you're the mistreated spy and I feel that you are _owed_ something. I love you because of your virtues and achievements…because you are the highest form of man. You embody everything that holds meaning for me in this world. _You are what I would be_."

The neglected child still maintained a very definite foothold in Severus' psyche, and he dipped his head at her praise, parting his lips to argue that his society had never been completely welcome to anyone…except her. But Marian anticipated his words, and forestalled them with a gentle kiss on his parted lips. Refusing to pull him down to her again, even though her hand shook with the impulse to do it, she continued to speak, in the same soft, earnest tone of voice, "I know that I could live a thousand years and never find anyone to equal you, and I don't believe that anyone will ever surpass you, because you're not the sort of person that stagnates. You continue to grow wiser, braver, more knowledgeable…and yet you are one of the most unchanging people on this earth. Others compromise a little more of themselves and their values every day—their present selves wouldn't recognize the people they will have twisted themselves into in ten years' time.

"You chose poorly once, but the pains you took to make amends more than wiped out that error. Every lonely night you spent in voluntary servitude at Hogwarts, each attempt you made to save Harry and his friends from the consequences of their reckless adventures, every stolen minute that you spent on a feat of ingenuity for its own sake—knowing that your achievement would earn you no credit or renown, ennobled you and made you the man I adore.

"I _had_ to try to rescue you. I'm sure most of the Order members would revile me if they knew I had abandoned them during the last part of the battle, but I couldn't have acted otherwise. All I could think about was you, and that if you died, I would lose most of what makes this world worth living in."

Her words seeped into his body, warming him even as he struggled against the pleasure he felt. "Marian! Marian, my love, you make too many allowances for me. You deserve better than a 'reclaimed' man. You should have one that never fell in the first place," he trailed off with a whisper.

She scoffed, "Severus, we've _all_ fallen. You're a _man_—in every wonderful and terrible sense of the word. I don't hold anything against you. You need to forgive yourself. As warped as it sounds, I actually find your past comforting because it means that you understand human frailty and are familiar with temptation—and how to fight it. You're wiser for your previous error, and love me in spite of mine."

"Whatever you have done cannot be compared with the evils I've caused, the suffering that exists in this world because of me-" Severus answered in agitation.

"I highly doubt that, but it's futile for us to compare faults with each other. All I need to know is that when I hold my record up against one with no blemish, against a life of perfect justice, I have fallen short—and so have you," she declared.

"It seems a bit like setting yourself up for failure, comparing your own life with a perfect one," he objected.

"But what other legitimate measure is there? If there is to be any basis of comparison, then we're dealing with absolutes whether we like it or not….Do we call a man that occasionally lies a liar or a truth-teller?" she asked.

"A liar," he acknowledged, a faint smile creasing his lips. He saw where she was headed.

"Exactly, although he must tell the truth far more often than he tells lies…But where do we draw the line? After a few lies? One lie? I think perfection is really the only accurate gauge. It's like the 'zero' in mathematics—although I realize there are philosophical problems associated with that idea as well, when you start thinking about negative numbers and evil and….Severus, I'm rambling. Why haven't you stopped me?" she trailed off ruefully, a wan smile smoothing away the creases of thought that had wrinkled her brow.

As he gazed on her and returned her smile, he felt a familiar ache in his chest and curled his fingers around her wrist, trapping her hand and feeling the faint flutter of her pulse. Severus found the slight thudding under his touch exquisitely soothing. Even though unnecessary, he enjoyed tactile confirmation that she was alive and healthy. She eyed him questioningly and he quickly glanced up from their joined hands and replied lightly, "I wasn't even tempted. It never bothers me to discuss ideas."

"What _does_ it bother you to discuss?" she inquired, leaning closer, drawn forward by the mesmeric power of his eyes.

"_Me_," he replied sardonically, "How you can think I'm a hero when all I have to show for my many lost, misspent years are a few new potions—pitifully few! I could have done so much more if I'd only had the _time_….I had thought that I wanted power, when all I really desired was to be left alone to do things my own way. Why did I ever sign my life over to Dumbledore? It accomplished nothing! I didn't save Lily or her husband—I wasn't even responsible for saving Potter! All those years of servitude…_and for what_? I was naïve. I should have offered him less! What was I thinking, agreeing to do 'anything'? I had heard the old expression that if you pay with a blank check, it's always made out for every penny you have. I knew, and yet I acted as I did! No one else would have been stupid enough to make such an error."

"Stupidity had nothing to do with it. It was a matter of honor, as you very well know," she interrupted sternly, "_Others_ could have chosen differently in that situation—that's true. But tell me this: if you suddenly found yourself transported back eighteen years with the ability to choose again either to betray Voldemort, to continue to serve him or to flee both Voldemort and Dumbledore-even with the knowledge of all the things you would come to suffer—could you have acted differently, being who you are?"

"No," he answered in a low voice, letting his head drop forward like a broken flower.

"And _that_ is why I love you," she answered simply.

He gave a strangled laugh, which sounded more like a muffled cry. "But you are seeing me through rose-colored glasses. You don't know the half of it," he remonstrated bitterly, "Even putting aside the terrible things I did as a Death Eater, which, inexplicably, don't seem to matter to you, my behavior at the school should be enough to damn me in your eyes. Every student there disliked me, and I was universally acknowledged to be the strictest, cruelest and most biased teacher there."

She squared hers shoulders and leaned slightly forward, exclaiming, "And we all know that public opinion is such an _accurate_ barometer of truth….Alright, suppose you behaved as badly as you say. Well, why _wouldn't_ you? All those years spent alone, hoping for someone that would understand, but nobody ever came."

The amazement in his eyes at her words was better than any confession, and so she hurried on ardently, "Do you imagine that I don't know what that's like? I thought that I would never meet anyone that would love me for the things I wanted to be loved for-not just my body and my bank account. I would meet a man that everyone else called handsome, but all I could see were his cloudy eyes, duller than a cow's. Another man would have sharp, intelligent eyes, but a hint of weakness about his mouth, or a certain lack of conviction in his posture. I instinctively turned away from them all—I couldn't help it. They weren't right. I despaired of finding _my_ kind of man, the kind I could love without holding anything back. I'm not the most observant woman, but I tried to keep my eyes open, to catch a glimpse of that most elusive animal—the thoroughly remarkable man—a man of genius, strength and character, who would stand tall and do right, completely indifferent to public pressure.

"I wasn't looking for an object of worship, just—confirmation of something I had almost despaired to find in real life. I hoped to find someone from among the researchers and intellectuals and adventurers I met in the course of my work. But it didn't take long to discover that a curse-breaker I had heard highly of slept indiscriminately with every woman he met. Or that the ambassador to the vampires praised for his silver tongue was a lying, amoral rascal. Or that the young magical historian was a pseudo-intellectual that twisted evidence to fit the fashionable 'social consciousness' of the moment, and was full of self-importance besides.

"Every few years, I would meet kindred spirits, but their lights were dim. I didn't meet a single person that made me proud to call myself their fellow human being, not a single man that I could truly look up to, or who confirmed my hope that real people could be as strong, as capable, as honorable and brightly brilliant as the characters in literature that I was half in love with. I loved these invented men more than the ones I met in the real world—and I bowed my head in shame and despair when people told me that my standards were too high, that I wanted too much, that I shouldn't allow myself more than two or three 'deal-breakers'—more than that and I would _never_ find a man.

"Well, I decided that if I would have to give up so much that I didn't want one. I didn't need one. I know that it sounds arrogant, but I had never met a man that deserved the person I ought to be—the person I felt the potential to become someday if I worked tirelessly to improve myself….But I have gotten far off-topic, Severus. I hope that you don't think I'm a fool. I told you before that I'm a romantic idealist. I'm not proud of it-"

"You should be," he whispered, his voice rough in its intensity.

"But my love, we were talking about you at Hogwarts, so let's return to that. You say you were strict? Why not? You were grasping for whatever order you could catch hold of, when you had given up your own life to someone else's control. And I've met the Hogwarts' staff. The vast majority look like escapees from a Muggle nursing home. You knew that those children lived at school for most of the year, and that when they went home their parents were more likely to spoil or neglect them than to discipline them. The other teachers had no energy and you always had to take over detentions and patrols for then-You see what common knowledge it was if even _I_ knew about that….You had been ignored as a child. You understood that it was far kinder to err on the side of too much discipline than too little."

He nodded once involuntarily before he caught himself and hardened his features, ashamed of his lapse. Marian had noticed his slip, and, moved with compassion, she reverently pressed her lips to his wool-clad shoulder and then pulled back, meeting his eyes and holding his overpowering gaze. She spoke simply, but vehemently as if the passion of her words alone could reach that dark, lonely place inside him that her lips were unable to touch, "But all these things you speak of are only ashes to me. As far as I'm concerned, they are long forgotten….I love you, Severus."

"Love isn't an eraser, Marian," he bit out.

She kissed his palm. She hadn't noticed that she had started kissing him each time he made a stinging comment, but in a way, it neutralized his barbs for both of them. "No, it isn't," she replied, and her tone let him know that she felt he had known better than to say it.

"I'll tell you what love _is_, Severus. It's been very much on my mind lately," she said, and a hint of vulnerability tinged her words, as though she were dropping her robe and baring herself to him for the first time.

Ensnared by curiosity, he motioned for her to continue, a thoughtful spark glittering in his eyes. She knew that it must have come from the ceiling lamp, but it seemed to originate from somewhere inside him. Marian found it hard to believe that any of Severus' glory could be the reflected sort.

"Love is a decision, but it is much more than that," she began gravely, "If I found you contemptible—or even merely unremarkable, how could I give you everything? How could I love you with everything that I am? I don't understand that kind of love that focuses itself on an unworthy object.

"My heart is not familiar with causeless love, or a love based on obligation. If that were true, I should love everyone that loves me and am disgusting for not doing so, but I can't help that my heart is cold towards Sirius Black…and I like him more than most. As long as my mind retains the capacity to think, my love will not be a blind one….I don't understand that sort of love…It sounds like charity—loving a thing against reason, loving a thing when I can't see its quality or value—and I've told you before that I'm not a charitable woman."

She laughed brokenly, painfully and murmured, "That is not a very Christian thing to say—that I don't want to be charitable…."

"Shall I tell you what I think?" he asked gently. Marian nodded, hoping for his sanction, and yet half-fearing to receive it.

"I think that charity is a fine thing. Give the needy your money, your time, your kindness, if you must….But don't give them your soul! You are far too precious to wind up as a human sacrifice! Why _should_ you chain your hands and feet and give yourself over to a man that wouldn't deserve you—a man that might appreciate your body, and maybe even your mind, but who would be completely incapable of seeing the finer points of who you are?"

Severus took a breath and began to speak triumphantly, the velvet of his voice unrolling like a carpet as he gloried in what he finally told her, "_You_ are the woman that was capable of rescuing a man from Azkaban and bringing him back to life. You single-handedly changed the course of a war. You kept yourself pure even though you thought you would never find the man you sought—you refused to compromise your own sense of justice and take less than you deserved. You're the woman who didn't let her widowed mother spend a single evening alone in an empty house until she died. You created the most sophisticated and advanced methods of transportation that the world has ever seen—Muggle or magical. You invented a Charm that voided the Imperius Curse….You softened and enslaved the cruelest, stoniest heart in all of Britain short of Voldemort's. Don't deceive yourself and imagine that I deserve you. I know that I don't... but I can at least appreciate the things that make you so wonderful.

"I had sworn to protect Harry Potter, but I didn't care for the boy….I needed something to believe in, something to give meaning to the endless progression of stale, slavish years. Every time I crawled back to my rooms after a torture session, every time I paced the empty halls of Hogwarts—as hollow as my chest-I tried to imagine that I was somehow making the world better for someone like you. I thought of Lily and tried to idealize her and imagine that there were more like her out there. But the trouble was, I wanted something_ more_ than Lily—but there _was_ nothing more than Lily. There was not even Lily. I had known her, and I had known her limits. I also knew that she hadn't been able to love me. But I still needed her—something like her—to hold onto.

"All around me, everywhere I looked, was only dislike, mistrust and stupidity. Oh God, Marian, the stupidity! I think that was the worst. I tried to teach the students relatively simple concepts, but I could see their eyes glaze, sense their total lack of understanding, and their lack of desire to understand. It was maddening—and I _felt_ mad after a while. And then whenever one child was marginally brighter than the others, or grasped even a modicum of what I had said during a lecture, he expected me to praise him to the skies for his newly-discovered 'genius', and when I didn't, I was berated by the other teachers for not 'fostering his self-esteem' or some rubbish.

"I would rather spend two hours under the Cruciatus than sign on for another year of teaching. And Dumbledore knew it. He knew what it cost me, how much it hurt me—but it was part of my punishment. I was always to be punished—that was the unspoken part of our bargain. He wouldn't grant me a change of subject, even when I was half-crazed with misery. The other teachers couldn't understand what was so bad, what was wrong with me. I tried not to show it, but—they knew. And it only cemented the idea that I was not their equal. They all knew my history and why I was at Hogwarts. I had received no pity from them as a student. I managed to earn their contempt as a professor. And as a headmaster—no! I will not speak of that.

"But Marian, I don't know how to explain what it was like to see the empty stares of those dullards looking up at me every day, and knowing that they were the people I was working to save. They vied with each other over who could learn the least, read the fewest books, scrape by with the least effort. I lost what little heart I had and began posting formulas on the board at the beginning of each lesson. I spoke to the class as little as possible. It was like making speeches in a madhouse.

"But in spite of all evidence I saw to the contrary, I _had_ to believe that there were people like you out there. I didn't want to be like those others—the incompetent majority-they disgusted me. But I also disgusted myself and knew that I didn't deserve to find the things I longed for, and a companion that would understand me. I say 'companion', when what I really wanted was a champion—someone to tell me that I wasn't wrong for what I was…for all the things I needed that the world wouldn't provide me…the things I valued that everyone else spat upon."

"What did you need?" she asked breathlessly.

"To see for myself that there existed one living human that could plausibly have been made in the image of God. I needed to meet someone who was as I might have been—as I suppose I could have never_ really_ been. Someone with character and principles, brilliance, strength and will and all the virtues worth having. There are plenty of virtues not worth having, and those are the ones you normally encounter—charity, cooperation, agreeableness for instance. Every now and then, you meet someone with one of the critical attributes—never with all of them. Never anyone striving to be more than they are, and doing it solely for the sake of their own excellence—because they love the truth and are grateful for the breath of life.

"But who am I to speak about truth? I'm a liar—in every sense. My whole life was a deception. And I'm the worst kind of liar, because I love the truth and always have….And it's made me so tired. I wanted to follow a straight path, but had placed myself in an intolerable position. I wasn't at liberty to follow my own principles even if I had had them. I cobbled together a code of my own, but it was as if I heaped together a pile of mud and dubbed it a 'mountain', while I built it in the shadow of a real mountain—such were my morals….Marian, don't listen to me. I'm talking nonsense," he muttered derisively. His fingers suddenly itched for a cigarette. He had never smoked.

"Not at all," she murmured, pondering his sudden outpouring of words. She couldn't remember the last time he had spoken so much and so personally.

He sighed and added tiredly, "Once I thought my ideals were modest—I wasn't looking for the Platonic ideal of man (or woman)—simply for some other person that had a similar vision and tried to live up to it. I was destined for decades of disappointment….But all that's over now. I'm so glad that it was you. I'm glad that you love me, but I'm rapturously, joyously happy that you are what you are…and that you're able to exist in this world at all."

Marian cupped his cheek, softly compelling him to return her gaze, and spoke with an odd triumph in her tone, "I suppose that this is how it feels to look back on a successful quest. I was always searching for you, even when I thought I was looking for something else….It seems that we're among the few that have actually found what they set out to find."

He drew in a quick breath and murmured humorously, "You weren't about to make some comparison to Grail knights, were you?"

She laughed happily and responded, "Am I that predictable? Well, I would have, but I was afraid it would be sacrilegious."

A lightness had appeared in Severus' eyes that hadn't been there even a few minutes before. Being able to unburden himself of those passionate words had worked a powerful catharsis in his psyche. He looked at her softly, with a gentle humor, and Marian mused that when other people looked happy, their eyes shone like sunlight on the water, but not Severus'. Light from any source always lent a silvery, rather than golden, cast to the tall wizard's eyes, making his irises appear to be made of surging molten metal.

Marian remembered that they had been talking about visiting her family, and a rush of protective love for her spy came over her all at once, prompting her to add the non sequitur, "And if anyone in my family even looks at you funny, they will answer to me. I would never choose anyone over you. If you feel uncomfortable there, then we will leave together!"

Realizing by his dumfounded expression that she might have been speaking a bit more vociferously than she had intended, she added impishly, "It's only logical. After all, someone will need to provide cover for your retreat."

"Love, put it out of your mind," he said warmly, tracing the length of her arm, his large, blue-veined hand curving slightly around it and sliding downward possessively.

"Do you really think that there's a chance that they will react 'unfavorably' to our magic?" she asked anxiously, pulling back after a moment and unconsciously licking her lips.

He nearly squirmed in his chair at the erotic sight, but managed to suppress the flicker of desire and spoke comforting words to her. "There is little reason to suspect that outcome," he soothed.

Shifting in his seat, Severus gathered himself to rise and return to work. Marian caught his mood, and joined him, restoring the chair to its former, less comfortable shape. The slim wizard paced towards his worktable, and with his back to her, inquired, "What will they be doing there?"

"A lot of talking and eating. I'm sure my brothers will be watching football, and maybe playing a little football—which I forbid you to partake in, by the way," Marian told him severely, although her eyes twinkled under her lashes. Turning on a dime, he shot her a challenging gaze.

"You _forbid_ it?" he asked in his lush, ironic tones that sent a shiver down her back, reminding her just how strong and capable he actually was. No matter how docile he often seemed, Marian remembered that you could never really tame a tiger.

She swayed slightly towards him without meaning to and replied cheekily, "Yes. The next strenuous activity that you participate in is going to take place in a bed…with me," she added after a beat, just so that there was no misunderstanding.

There wasn't. His eyes dilated and he teased her in his silkiest voice, "I thought you didn't want me to 'overtax' myself."

Reaching out and casually placing her hand on his lower back, Marian shrugged and murmured darkly, "What can I say? I'm selfish."

Her hand lingered on the curve of his spine, but then she suddenly dropped it lower on an irresistible impulse, intimately massaging and cupping one of the well-shaped globes of his backside. Even though he wore thick robes, he still felt every sensation, which shot to his groin in teasing pulses. Immediately, his head snapped up. She met his startled glance with a coy, challenging one.

He delicately set his glass stirring-rod on the countertop, afraid that he might drop it if she squeezed him again in just the right way. _She did_. He exhaled shakily. And then she massaged him again. Marian had never touched him here before, and he hadn't realized how stimulating he would find it. In response to his implied question, Marian baited, "With that dense heavy robe in the way, who's to say I didn't think it was your back?"

"That was most certainly_ not_ my back," he replied primly.

"Maybe not, but it'll never stand up in a court of law," she teased, caressing him once more for good measure, splaying out her finger tips and rubbing him, evoking an involuntary hiss from the spy.

After her extremely arousing behavior the night before, he realized that she was trying to get a rise out of him (literally, in this case), in order to convince him to change his mind about their wedding. He would have to teach her just who she was toying with. And so, with a wicked gleam in his eye, he replied calculatingly, "Good thing I believe in vigilante justice."

Marian took one look at that devilish dark glance before involuntarily squeaking and sprinting for the door, but Severus caught her arm almost at once. The two stumbled out into the corridor and her back bumped against the wall, shaking the pictures a few feet away from her.

Once he had her cornered, Severus eyed her gloatingly for a moment, before swooping down and bringing his lips to hers in a punishing kiss. But the moment their skin touched, it was as though each had been brought into contact with a live wire. Galvanized by the other's proximity, they began devouring one another in earnest. Hands ruffled hair and stroked skin, and lips panted in between bouts of frenzied kissing. "Just—say yes," she moaned, throwing her head back, completely surrendering to his superior strength.

He didn't answer. If he spoke, it would be to approve her words, and he couldn't—shouldn't—give in. Although he was finding it harder and harder to remember exactly why.

Severus' unfathomable dark eyes glinted with lust; his masculine features and strong, virile body enraptured Marian. She wanted to melt into him, to be absorbed into his essence. He cupped her cheeks with both hands and molded his insistent, pliant lips to hers. "Do you intend me to die for love of you?" she gasped, kissing his white throat, sliding her lips against him until her nose rested against his hair, and she breathed in his smoky, intoxicating scent.

He had been overthrown by desire, but her passionate question brought him back to himself. A shudder wracked his entire frame, and he gently took hold of her upper arms and put a little distance between them. In forceful, low tones he answered, "No. That is exactly what I _won't_ allow to happen. We can't get married now, Marian. I will never let your innocent love make you the target of my enemies."

He tried to keep her at arm's length, but she wouldn't have it, and took a deliberate step towards him, the smoldering fire in her eyes holding his prisoner. She goaded softly, "Kiss me again."

"I—I _dare_ not," he responded, quickly glancing away from her burning, provocative glance and swollen, cherry lips. Her braid had partially unraveled and her ruffled, disheveled hair caught the light and formed a halo over her face. She looked deliciously, sinfully unkempt. He longed for her—every fiber of his body, every drop of blood, every thought called out for her.

"_Severus,_ kiss me again," she commanded, in a lower, more carnal tone. He shivered, but looked torn between backing away, calling her bluff, and telling her not to order him about. But in the split second he spent debating with himself, she seized the advantage, and eased forward into his arms once more.

This time she kissed him slowly, sensually, taking her time with him, possessing his mouth completely. She slipped one hand into his hair and tugged it gently, her fingers weaving and tangling in the dark silk, while the other reclaimed his buttock, which she fondled and kneaded. He shifted against her, and she smiled when she felt his erection. Feeling especially daring, she let go of his rear and brought her hand around his hip, to trace the length of him through his robes with agile fingers.

The spy had stayed silent, but when he felt her touch him _there_, combined with her intense, voluptuous kisses, his breath caught raggedly and he moaned aloud in sheer ecstasy. Marian took the opportunity to tangle her tongue with his in a heated, deliberate way, and curled her hand around his erection, cupping it as she continued to kiss him. Finally, with a gasp, he wrenched himself away from her lips, which pried more of his reason away from him with each pass, each stimulating stroke. If any of his former associate saw him now, they would never recognize this flushed wizard with the wild, desperate look in his eye, mussed hair and thin, but well-kissed lips. He retained none of his usual icy composure and proud bearing. His all-consuming need was laid bare to his lover's eyes, and it was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.

"We…we _must_ not. I cannot marry you now. Only arguments can change my mind. The body only reasons with the body. If I wasn't so besotted with you—if I didn't love you just a hair more than I want you, I would have taken you months ago, overpowering your virtue and your protests for the chance to drag you down onto my bed. If you wish for your body to continue to bargain with mine, you should at least know what it's bargaining _for_," he breathed harshly, every sinew in his lean form quivering with his restraint.

Every muscle in his powerful body was tensed, and Severus clenched his elegant hands, desire making his dark eyes glitter and shine with an unnatural light. It was taking every ounce of his formidable willpower to resist going to her, and she could tell. But Marian was drunk on his body, and leaned forward as if impelled by something outside herself, and she showed him no mercy, working her way up his neck with her mouth and stopping with his ear. Teasing it with her petal-soft lips, she whispered, "I have a suspicion."

"What?" he asked raggedly.

"I think that you want to be persuaded. I think that you've rethought your earlier words. You know that our lives are connected now. If anything happens to you, it happens to me anyway, thanks to that blessing of a spell-" her lips brushed his ear.

"Damn you, woman!" he howled, taking her by her upper arms and placing her forcefully away from him, letting go with alacrity, before retreating down the hall, robes billowing, boots thumping—quickly, yet not half so quickly as his pulse. She didn't doubt for a moment that he was cursing himself, rather than her, and that knowledge empowered her to follow him for a few steps and call out to him. He stopped in his tracks, his forward motion arrested so suddenly that the hem of his robe snapped against his legs.

"How much longer can we continue on like this? Living in the same house? _Sleeping in the same bed?_ Do you know that I had to take Dreamless Sleep last night? I don't yet belong to you, but I can never belong to anyone else. I can't give you up—I can't bear a separation—but I'm going mad! If you don't make me your wife, I know I'll end up your whore," she exclaimed.

Marian felt as though the words had been torn out of her. She had completely lost herself in his arms. Lately, his touch had seemed more intense and harder to resist. It shocked her to find that suddenly found desire directing her speech and actions. If someone had told her that morning that she would pounce on Severus Snape in his lab before they were married and fondle him through his robes, she would have died of embarrassment. And yet, that was exactly what she had ended up doing—that, and more.

He turned towards her, and he seemed to have shed his disquiet of a moment before. She would have thought that he was perfectly calm if it wasn't for his tense-as-a-bowstring posture and the hectic glitter of his eyes. "Marian, I love you. I will always protect you to the best of my ability—and that includes from me. You will never be a whore. _Never_. And so I suppose you win. We will be married whenever you wish it," he said, in a voice filled with suppressed violence.

His reply was like a slap in the face. She had not expected him to give in against his better judgment. She had wanted to convince him and for them both to be on the same page. As things stood now, his agreement only served as a reproach to her. "But I didn't want to win like this," she replied in a small, lost voice.

He eyed her meaningfully, and answered quietly, straightforwardly. His words made her flush with shame. "How _did_ you want to win? What did you intend me to succumb to, if not the tactics you used? Is my consent not enough-do you wish for my approval as well?"

"You know that I always want your approval," she answered in a cracking voice that throbbed with feeling.

"Well, I cannot grant it," he replied laconically, "I still think it's dangerous for us to get married now. I have heard no new arguments or evidence to justify that the threat has passed."

She could only just admit to herself—and not to him—that his ruthlessness had been a great part of what had initially attracted her to him. Marian knew that she possessed a steely strength of will that others shied away from. Her detractors had sneered at her. Men that she had blithely looked past time and again, wrapped in her own thoughts, had called her cold, unfeminine, strange.

Her attention had frequently been drawn to her own otherness when she found herself in groups of women. They touched and hugged and cried over things that seemed incomprehensible to Marian by their very unimportance. And beneath her awkwardness and discomfort had always lurked a diamond-hard kernel of contempt. She couldn't help it. No matter how she tried to convince herself that _she_ was the unnatural one, that their reactions were the_ normal_ ones. She listened to them when they explained to her that she was repressed, suspicious, unloving. And yet the secret disdain persisted and a voice in her soul whispered: _They are weak._

And Marian despised weakness. She had been a young student when her teacher had mentioned a news article where a man had become trapped in a rockslide in the mountains and been forced to saw off the flesh of his arm with a dull pocketknife, and then to break the bone with a rock in order to free himself. It had been that or die. Others in the class had groaned and wrung their hands, protesting that they could never face anything so traumatic, that they would gladly die before maiming themselves. And Marian had been shocked by their reactions.

She had wanted to meet that hiker and shake his remaining hand, because he possessed a crucial element of being a man that these soft fools lacked—the ability to act, the remorseless, undaunted will to survive. Marian had seen too many of the people she loved wrenched out of the world by illness and accident, powerless to resist. But if one had even the slightest opportunity to fight back, to spite death just for a little while…Marian knew without question that she would have done the same as the man on the mountain. If she hadn't had a knife, she would have used a sharp stone, and if she couldn't find a stone, she would have used her teeth.

She didn't shrink from reality, and it disheartened her that others did. Where were the strong? The contradiction bothered her—as a Christian, she should praise the meek and the humble, but those traits left her cold, and she secretly admired qualities of a very different kind. She had wanted to meet just one man that would never bow his head in slavery, no matter what impossible circumstances he found himself in, one that would fight to the end to keep his own will, one wily and strong and proud, always masterful, someone who would meet her hardness with something harder still, someone stronger than her that she could rest in, count on, whose judgment was devastatingly incisive and intelligence pure and cool….She had never expected to meet this man, but he had existed in her heart ever since she had first read the classics, albeit in an amorphous, misty representation. It had been the shock of her life when she had found that this man of her ideals was Severus Snape.

Setting her head proudly, Marian decided that she would try to make amends and declared, "You're right….Then I will just have to acquire that evidence for you."

"You will do nothing of the kind, do you understand? That is the responsibility of the Aurors," Severus told her sternly. He could just imagine her going around interrogating all his enemies, and the thought amused him, but it alarmed him far more.

Nonchalantly, Marian said leadingly, "Tonks thinks it might have been Trotter." He had been about to disappear around the corner into the restroom, but he paused again and turned slowly. "And do _you_ think Trotter was responsible?" he asked directly. His eyes seemed to challenge her and she realized that even though he had only heard one side of her conversation with Tonks, it had been quite enough for him to put together that she now knew everything there was to know about his interactions with Trotter.

It had taken little time for her to regain her self-possession, and she answered, "He might have been," and held his gaze.

She saw a spark in his eyes that might have been admiration, but the skin tightened around his mouth and he replied dismissively, "I think not."

He entered the guest lavatory and closed the door with a decisive click. Marian stood still, and wondered why she felt as if _she_ had been the one to flee the room.

She felt disgusted with herself and wandered into the living room, hoping to waylay him on the way back to his lab and clear up their issues. She didn't want him to pander to her weakness and act against his own conscience and judgment. Marian did not know why she hadn't seen her behavior in that light all along. One did not try to manipulate Severus Snape. Trying to pull one over on him was never any fun, because those clear, steady eyes of his always saw through her effort, and made her ashamed whether he gave in or not—because he did it with full knowledge.

Startled by a red flash of light, Marian spun around in a half-turn, her rapid motion causing a cool breeze to fan her overheated skin. With a soft exclamation of dismay, she realized that someone had Flooed. The timing was abysmal, but there was nothing to be done but to stride forward and answer the call. Marian's feet felt weighted with lead, and her step was more of a slow drag than her usual stride, but she eventually made it over to the fireplace and dropped heavily to her knees. She saw that the caller's hair blending with the fire and knew that it must belong to a Weasley. "Molly?" she asked.

Her friend's smiling, wise eyes appeared first, rising above the half-consumed oak log. As soon as her mouth became visible, Molly remarked knowingly, "He's here, isn't he?"

Marian nodded in surprise, but her friend didn't seem to need confirmation, and pressed on before she managed to incline her head once. "We were terrified for you two when we heard about the fire. I have Flooed six times in the past two days. Why haven't you answered any of my calls?" Molly demanded, a little of her former worry seeping into her tone.

Mindlessly reaching up to smooth her hair and accidentally snagging her fingers, Marian quickly dropped her hand and replied apologetically, "I'm terribly sorry. A lot has happened this week, and I haven't been by the fire as much as I usually am. But yes, Severus has been here the whole time. He wasn't at Spinner's End when it was burned."

"Do you mind if Arthur and I come through?" she asked, ignoring Floo protocol in her concern—and guilt, over the Order's injured, sallow-faced spy.

Rather helplessly, her friend nodded again. "I would love that. Come right through, and I'll go get Severus," she murmured.

With a smile of satisfaction dimpling the cheeks that looked like two firm, ripe apples, Molly answered, "That's fine, Marian. But if he's not well enough to see us…" she trailed off, beginning to reconsider boldly inviting herself.

"He is," the American replied gently, trying to behave graciously and reassure her friend. A moment later, Molly disappeared from the fire, and Marian knew that her arrival was imminent. Marian walked towards the back of the house and saw that the bathroom door stood ajar. Severus must have already returned to his lab. Sighing, she approached, biting her cheek when she realized that the door had been firmly closed after the earlier visit she had paid him. She straightened a picture of Caesar accepting the surrender of Vercingetorix, which had been knocked crooked by their earlier exertions, and then, when she could delay no longer, sighed and raised her hand, knocking gently.

It swung open, and Marian could see Severus still tirelessly at work, measuring a red powder on the far side of the room, his sharp eyes carefully gauging the amount, his practiced hands revealing no sign of hesitation. She realized that he must have used magic to open the door, even while completely immersed in his current task. For a man of such impressive focus, he was a pretty competent multi-tasker.

She waited for him to pour the substance into the cauldron on the left, and then deftly stir it a few times—before turning to her with a patient expression that revealed nothing. Marian couldn't tell whether he was angry with her, irritated by her presence, frustrated, or pleased that she had sought him out again. She spoke up before she could find out. "Love, we're about to have some visitors," she murmured, trying to infuse an apology into her tone.

Her darting eyes noticed the fleece she had abandoned earlier, and she slowly walked over to his stool and picked it up, while continuing to speak. She slipped one arm in and jumped slightly in surprise when she felt Severus' competent hands holding the jacket so she could thread her other arm through.

"Molly Flooed just now, and apparently she and Arthur have been very worried about you—especially after hearing about the fire. She's been trying to get in touch with us and called several times. She asked if she and Arthur could come through, and I would have asked you, but I was kind of put on the spot…" Marian said, zipping up her deep blue fleece. She felt decidedly colder now that she wasn't in his arms.

"It's fine. Are they coming now?" he inquired in a resonant voice devoid of judgment.

She nodded and he turned back to his cauldrons. "I'll clean up and be right there," he replied dutifully.

Marian reached for him as she passed by, but dropped her hand before her fingers contacted his shoulder. She felt tired and defeated, and didn't want to entertain company while things between them were still strained, and so she hesitated for a moment on the threshold and said softly, "I _am_ sorry. About earlier. I don't want to manipulate you. We'll get married when you think it's safe. I don't-"

Molly's voice suddenly soared from the living room and cut her off. "Marian? Where are you?" she called.

Marian visibly wilted, and the rest of her apology died in her throat. She shrugged helplessly before answering in false gaiety, "I'll be right there, Molly. Get comfortable!"

But before she left the room, she noted that Severus no longer regarded her with eyes that were cold and studiously devoid of expression. Now they emitted a warmth that she could almost feel, a look of understanding that held her captive there for a few moments, before she averted her gaze and tore herself away from him.

When she entered the living room, Molly was examining the unfinished mosaic that still graced the coffee table. She and Severus occasionally enjoyed adding a few tiles to it when they lounged around with their coffee. Arthur stood in front of the hearth and self-consciously attempted to brush the soot from his robes. Marian really did need to find the spell the Malfoys used to keep the fireplace clean. She could develop it on her own in time, but it would be much easier if she just had Severus ask them.

"Where's the sick man? He's not in bed, is he?" Arthur asked, and he looked around him curiously, appearing completely at ease in his new surroundings.

"He's not," broke in Severus' calm, gently ironic voice.

"Severus!" exclaimed Arthur in delight. He walked towards the taller man and clasped his lean arm fervently. Marian couldn't help but notice the difference between them. As much as she loved Arthur, who had very pleasing features by all accounts, she saw that his shock of thinning red hair and his slight paunch stood out in garish contrast to the sharp, clean angles of her pale spy.

She had gotten better at reading Severus, and saw a powerful emotion flash over his face before he controlled his features. It had been a combination of surprise, pleasure, and gratification. Marian knew that he had not expected anyone to miss him. Arthur looked him up and down and was saying something like, "Really, it's remarkable! You're doing so well. You look almost like you did when we saw you last," but Marian was distracted by a short streak of tomato that whizzed past her and wrapped around Severus' waist. Molly hugged him ferociously, his ribs in a vice grip. Before he willed it away, a shadow of pain marked his features. Marian saw and the admonishment, "Be careful with him!" erupted from her mouth before she could consider the consequences.

She looked up to meet three bemused smiles. Marian flushed. Severus teased, "_You're_ not always 'careful with me'," in a tone in which a hint of innuendo _might_ have been present.

"Do I ever hurt you?" she asked in consternation. In her concern for him, she forgot for the moment that they were not alone.

He laughed quietly and answered, "Of course not, Marian. Don't be ridiculous."

But now the fear had rooted in her mind, and she stepped closer to the wizard and placed a gentle, detaining hand on his sleeve. "Do you promise to let me know if I ever do?" she pursued earnestly.

He rolled his eyes indulgently and muttered fondly, "Of course. But you won't, so don't let the thought trouble you….We are neglecting our guests, my dear."

She turned back towards Molly and Arthur, who were smiling identical Cheshire Cat grins. Arthur couldn't keep his thoughts to himself, and exclaimed delightedly, "I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it for myself. The fearless, icy Severus Snape—in love at last!"

Marian glanced shyly up at him for his reaction, but he said nothing to deny the words, although his cheeks looked slightly more flushed. "I think it's wonderful. You two deserve to be happy, and it's been a long time coming….Oh my goodness, is that what I think it is?" Molly suddenly exclaimed, catching sight of Marian's engagement ring for the first time.

Marian proudly held out her hand for them to admire the gem, and felt Severus splay his warm hand out on her back. His supportive gesture made her inexplicably happy, and she twined her other arm about his waist in response, because she suddenly wanted to be much closer to him.

"We're so sorry to drop in on you unannounced, but we have all been dying to find out how you survived your…injury. And then when we heard about the fire, we were terribly worried about you both….I couldn't get you to come to the Floo, and then I wasn't able to contact Tonks….But Severus, all in all, you look remarkably well for a man that has been through all the things we heard that you suffered. Do you have a moment to sit down and talk about it, or is it still too painful?" Molly asked straightforwardly.

Severus glanced at Marian, as if asking her what version of the tale the Weasleys should receive. She gave a subtle shrug in response, and left it up to him. "I do not mind talking about it," he answered smoothly after a beat.

All at once, Marian remembered that she was supposed to play hostess. She hadn't had visitors in so long that she had forgotten her manners completely. "Please sit down and make yourselves comfortable, and I'll get you something to drink," she said, earning a small smirk from Severus.

After she took their orders (she would have to remember to buy some tea, if she was going to have visitors from the motherland. Severus didn't count. He had never cared one way or the other about the drink.), she sped to the kitchen, unwilling to miss a moment of the story. She still didn't know what version he planned to tell. She came back quickly, levitating a tray and two bowls ahead of her to the coffee table. She had brought wine, and also a small sampling of snacks, some cookies, crackers and cheese, and a bowl of the chips that Arthur loved so much.

Molly and Arthur had taken up residence on the couch, and Severus currently sat stiffly in one of the recliners. She reluctantly moved to take the other chair, which was all the way across the room from him, when she noticed out of the corner of her eye that his seat had begun to expand. He had not paused in his story, but had magically extended his chair in order to accommodate her. Warmed by the gesture, she slipped in beside him. At some point, their hands joined of their own accord, but neither one acknowledged it.

Marian was surprised that Severus was recounting the true story. Apparently, he valued the Weasleys more highly than he had pretended, deciding that it wouldn't be right to let their friends believe the nonsense in the papers about his kidnapping by Death Eaters. When he finally finished, Arthur whistled softly and eyed Marian with a newfound respect. "Don't let her go, Severus. She is one of a kind," he said, still marveling over the lengths she had gone to save the man before him.

"I know. And I don't intend to," he answered softly, but fiercely.

A brief pause followed his declaration, and Marian's heart beat so loudly that she was sure the others could hear it, but they made no sign. Arthur shifted forward and wiped his fingers on a napkin. "So, Severus, do you have any idea who might have burned Spinner's End?" he asked, and Marian could tell that he actually wanted to know. A keen desire for justice burned in those eyes, ringed with blond lashes and gentle smile lines.

Not glancing at Marian, Severus said grimly, "I have an idea….Tell me, have either of you seen Sirius Black lately?"

"Sirius!" Marian blurted in surprise. She had never considered him a suspect. In fact, and she wasn't proud of it, he had hardly been on her mind at all the past few days. After the Christening's disastrous end, Marian had forgotten all about him, and now she was swamped with guilt, and tasted sour bile on her tongue. She had known how Sirius felt about her and that the news of Severus' survival would wreck all his hopes, and yet she hadn't given him a second thought.

She wanted to act to make things better, but helplessly reflected that in this particular situation, there might be nothing for her to do. Perhaps she wasn't_ really_ to blame. Perhaps she should continue to let things lie...But she wondered why that resolution didn't make her guilt any easier to bear.

Molly and Arthur didn't seem surprised by Severus' words. They shared a glance and Arthur replied slowly, "Yes, I've seen him. And he's a total wreck. I don't know if he burned your home, but I feel that he…could have…in the state he's been in."

"We haven't been able to get him to snap out of it," Molly picked up where he left off, "He is driving Tonks and Remus crazy with his wildly unpredictable behavior. He's been riding that motorcycle of his all over the place, making it fly…drinking. You really should talk to him, my dear."

Marian opened her mouth to respond, but Severus jealously covered her blue jean-clad knee with his hand, veins standing out prominently, and said flatly, "Absolutely not. She is not going anywhere near him."

She whipped her head towards him and mutinous words rose to her lips, but then she suddenly remembered herself and kept quiet. She and Severus could argue later when they were alone. The others felt the sudden awkwardness and Arthur ventured to ask, "So what do you plan to do now, Severus? I know that Minerva wants you back at Hogwarts something fierce. She has said publicly that you're welcome to teach any subject you want, and that she would appoint you deputy-headmaster besides."

Severus scoffed, "I'll never go back—especially if I'm to be demoted."

"Er, did you want to return as headmaster then?" Arthur asked, in what he intended to be a delicate manner, but which revealed how shocking he knew the public would find the thought of Severus' reascension to the post he had held with such infamy.

"Not for anything in the world," Severus replied tersely, leaning his head slightly against the cushioned lining of the chair. It was the only sign of weakness he would permit himself.

"Well, if you don't intend to return to teaching, the Ministry is awfully anxious to secure your services. You would be a welcome addition to any department—even the Department of Mysteries, I've been given to understand," Arthur confided, as though his words conveyed a great honor.

"I'll never do government work," Severus said decisively. His tone was neutral but his lip curled into a sneer for a fraction of a second. The others didn't catch it. Marian did. She knew and shared his loathing for regulation and control. Even though Kingsley was Minister, and they knew him to be a good man, both felt that the Ministry had far too much power. It had been used to their detriment only months before. The schools were just about the only thing _not_ run by the Ministry, although Fudge and Umbridge had tried their damnededness to acquire Hogwarts. But the Ministry ran the only wizarding hospital in Britain, regulated transportation and nearly everything else, from games and sports to magical creatures.

The Ministry of Magic had long endeavored to gobble up all the wizards with brilliant talent and place them in positions where they strangled in red tape, slowly losing their individuality and withering away as a small part of a collective entity. If any non-government worker developed a new invention that wasn't deemed frivolous, the Ministry had the ability to withhold the patent indefinitely, starving the inventor and turning the creation over to its own researchers in the Department of Mysteries. Severus knew these things even better than Marian. No one is a bigger fan of the _laissez-faire_ system than the independent thinker that has once been stifled under a restrictive regime. Severus had endured Dumbledore, Voldemort and the Ministry of Magic. He had escaped the first two, and would not fall prey to the third again.

"No offense," he added after a beat, "I know that you do wonderful work for your department, but I don't think that I would be happy in the Ministry—too little freedom and too much contact with others. I think that I would fare better as a consultant."

Severus cut his eyes at Marian after these words and saw her looking at him in pleased surprise. They had not talked about what he might do once he fully recovered. She appreciated his current freedom to work on whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. She had hoped that he would choose to keep it, but wasn't sure. He had been a part of an institution for so long that he might miss working in that sort of environment. Apparently, this was far from the case.

"Then I wonder how you'll feel about that 'war hero' Christmas party the Ministry has planned," Arthur remarked with a tinge of amusement. He had a pretty good idea how Severus would feel about it, having attended more than a few Order parties with him.

For clarification, Marian asked, "But we've received no invitation. I thought that the party was to be on the anniversary of the final battle."

Arthur crossed his hands behind his head, and Marian noticed that he wore a flashy gold watch on his left wrist—probably a gift from the twins. His back popped audibly and then he sat back up and took a sip of wine, eyelids drooping slightly. Finally, he answered drily, "Well, this was a rather last-minute decision. Kingsley feels that the Ministry can't wait until May—although that party is in the works as well. They need good press now, and so they've decided to invite all of the Order of Merlin recipients and members of the Order of the Phoenix—besides the celebrities of the wizarding world-and the press, of course….There will be feasting, and dancing, and you and Harry will be the men of the hour. Incidentally, you might want to drop Kingsley a line saying that you survived the fire. The _Daily Prophet_ is having a field day with him over it, saying that you beat impossible odds only to be murdered by some rogue Death Eater, because he didn't do a good enough job of cleaning up the streets when he was elected….But what do you say, Severus? Will you attend?"

Severus had not been able to hide his look of dismay. He hated events of this kind and had come to enjoy the shadows. He had no desire to be bathed in a spotlight and cornered by reporters asking invasive questions. Arthur grinned at him in commiseration, and they both knew that he wasn't any happier about the party than he was, but as a Ministry official, he would be unable to wriggle out of attending.

A diabolical look came into Severus' eye and he replied slowly, in his clear, melodious voice, "I regret that I will be unable to attend….You see, I'll be on my honeymoon."

Marian started violently, and almost fell from the chair. He shot his arm out and wrapped it about her waist, sliding her towards him. Arthur chuckled at her antics, and Molly bit back a laugh and asked, "Come as a surprise to you, my dear?"

Marian didn't look at them. She only had eyes for Severus—and they were narrowed. "A bit," she muttered, and then added more graciously, "We had not set a definite date."

"I thought our wedding was to take place over Thanksgiving," he commented in a careless tone, all the while studiously engaged in placing his goblet in the exact center of his coaster.

But there was nothing careless about the fiery, penetrating glance he shot her from under his slender brows. "Of course," she replied in a strangled voice, wondering what he was playing at. Not even an hour ago, they had discussed that they would wait until evidence was produced to incriminate someone in the Spinner's End fire.

Marian rose awkwardly on the pretext of refilling her drink and reached for Severus' glass, but he stopped her with a delicate touch. His wineglass was still partially full. She reclaimed her hand as though it had been scalded, and headed for the kitchen, hoping that her actions spoke for her, because she felt rendered mute in the presence of company, since there was so much she needed to say to him in private.

She was surprised when Molly stated playfully, "I'm going to accompany her. We'll leave you two alone. Arthur—no explosions."

He waggled his eyebrows and his wife sniffed in pretended displeasure. Marian entered the kitchen and placed her elbows on the cool stone counter, propping her feverish cheeks with the palms of her hands. Molly entered behind her and gently closed the door, effectively separating them from the men softly conversing in the next room. "So," she said gloatingly, after a pause, "It looks like you got your mansion after all."

Marian slowly lowered her hands and grinned tiredly. "I did indeed," she confirmed, and forgot her frustration with Severus in her remembered delight that he was hers.

"I suppose I don't have to ask whether you're happy with him. You seem like you're bathed in light these days. And that love bite on your neck is a bit of a giveaway," Molly added cheekily.

Marian self-consciously reached up to conceal her throat, and Molly laughed good-naturedly. "I was only kidding about the love-bite, but you've just proven my point rather eloquently, I think," she declared.

"Molly, that's not funny," Marian reproved, attempting to look stern, but unable to repress a snicker.

"I told you that he would be passionate. You girls didn't believe me at the time, but I could tell," she said knowingly.

"Oh, I believed you alright," Marian acknowledged ironically, finally dropping her fingers.

The mood had lightened considerably since they had retired to the kitchen. Marian had decided that she would find out what Severus was thinking later, but since he had just announced that they would be married over Thanksgiving, she would operate as though that was the official plan. "Severus had wanted us to wait to get married until we found out who burned Spinner's End, but apparently he's changed his mind….So I think we'll have the magical ceremony the morning we go to stay with my brother—that's next Wednesday. We're going to have a brief ceremony at the American Ministry first, and then we'll have a Muggle one on Saturday. Your family is invited to both, of course. We haven't really planned anything, so it will be just the ceremonies," she confided.

"That's wonderful, Marian!" Molly exclaimed, but then a crease appeared in her brow and she asked, "But how will we get to the United States? Portkey?"

Marian snorted with laughter. "Do you not know where you are now?"

Molly tilted her head in curiosity and her friend burst out, "You're standing in America this very minute. We have an international Floo connection in our fireplace. You just came through it. It might be easier if you used it on Wednesday, and then we could all go to the Ministry together from here."

Refilling her wine glass from the half-empty bottle on the counter, Molly tipped her head and commented playfully, "So, did the Ministry set that connection up for you, Marian?"

The younger witch snorted with laughter and retorted, "What do you think?"

Suddenly sobering, Molly walked slowly around the peninsula and gazed at her friend in compassion. "You know that I didn't think he would be good for you. I thought that if he came out of this war, he would be too jaded, too bitter, too damaged to make a good husband for you. But I think I might have been wrong. He's in love with you—hopelessly in love with you—that much is obvious. And even though his sufferings have increased exponentially since the last time I saw him, he seems almost a different man. It's shocking how much more life is in him now. His eyes aren't empty anymore…at least, when he looks at you. I think his love will prove worth having," she finished quietly.

Marian slightly bowed her head in assent and felt a tendril of hair strike her cheek. She remembered what had caused her hair to become so loose and blushed suddenly. Molly discarded her serious manner almost as soon as she donned it, and in her customary bustling way proclaimed, "But that boy is too thin! You need to fatten him up, Marian. He's far too frail-looking."

Marian knew exactly what her friend meant, but was surprised that she saw it. His thick robes concealed the tough, slender form that still showed signs of malnourishment, but since he always kept himself well-covered it was difficult to make that assessment. His skin bore a noticeable pallor, but he had always been pale and few would take note of the slight change. But Molly's maternal gaze saw that Severus Snape was a curious mixture of delicacy and strength, and Marian appreciated that she cared enough to see the truth about him. People had always taken Severus for granted, content to placidly look on while he worked himself to death to protect their interests. Marian wanted to guard him from those sorts of people now.

Molly interrupted her thoughts by asking, "Is he taking any nutritional potion?"

When she shook her head, the Weasley matriarch tsked and said fretfully, "He could brew it for himself in no time. You really must ask him to do it, Marian. I used to have to give it to Bill. He was always getting caught up in some project and forgetting to eat. It's really wonderful stuff….I forget what it's called, but Severus will know. He certainly brewed it often enough for the Infirmary at Hogwarts….But I guess we'd better be going. I didn't want to derail your entire evening. I just wanted to see for myself that you were both safe and well….Harry told me that Severus was alright, but I couldn't quite believe it after what I had read in the papers about his horrible ordeal. I knew that if it was true that it would kill you."

"You're right about that," Marian responded and exhaled shakily. As she walked around the counter with the wine bottle in her hand, her haunted look returned for a moment. She had to remind herself that Severus was safe, that he was in the next room.

Both men stopped speaking and looked up when the women reentered the den. Marian held up the wine and courteously offered them refills. Severus took her up on it, but Arthur declined, having caught his wife's eye and realized that she was ready to go. After so many years of marriage, the two had gotten to be quite in sync. As their guests prepared to step into the fireplace, Marian called, "I'll let you know a time for Wednesday as soon as I find out. We'll try to make it during Arthur's lunch break-"

Molly said gaily, "Don't worry about that, my dear. We wouldn't miss it for the world."

The moment they vanished into the fireplace in a flurry of silvery powder, Marian approached the coffee table and began collecting the food that had been balanced there, inches away from the small bowls filled with mosaic tiles. Severus was standing behind her, but she ignored him for a few moments, before deciding that she was acting ridiculous. She was slightly angry, and she wasn't entirely sure why, but it had been painful to receive so many surprises in front of their guests. She hadn't expected him to act unilaterally when it came to something that concerned them both so closely.

Straightening up, she asked in a quiet, neutral tone, "Would you like something to eat for supper?"

His expression showed that he knew this was the last thing on her mind, and his lips quirked ever so slightly in the corners, which made his mouth appear even more tempting to her, even as it took on a faint edge of mockery. "No," he answered simply, and reached out to take the cutting board and Arthur's glass from her hands, while she bent again to collect the bowls.

When they reached the kitchen and placed the items down, she wiped her hands on her jeans and prepared to confront him. She couldn't stay angry with him for long, especially for being secretive. The man had been a spy, after all. And every time she looked at him, she felt the same sensation she had felt as a child on Christmas morning—that same joy, and anticipation and excitement—along with the lure of the mysterious and the unknown.

"When did you change your mind? I thought that earlier we had agreed to wait," Marian said at last, as though the words had been drawn out of her against her will.

"We agreed to wait until we found new evidence about the fire," he amended, watching her closely. He saw that in spite of her blasé manner that she was hurt, and the knowledge stung him.

She threw her hands up in exasperation. "Yes, but we haven't! Unless Arthur said something I missed," she retorted flippantly.

"No. Not him-Molly. And we don't have new evidence _yet_, but we will after you visit _Black_," he said, nearly grinding his teeth as he spat out the name.

Marian said quietly, "I don't think he did it, Severus. It's not like him."

It was the wrong thing to say. "Of course not, because attempted murder is _so_ out-of-character for him," he sneered sarcastically.

It took a visible effort, but he swallowed down his bitterness and added, in a conciliatory, calmer tone, "I just want you to ask him—that's all. Ask him and dare him to deny it. If he truly loves you, as he claims, he will never lie to your face. But I suspect that his cowardice will overcome his finer impulses. In spite of his denial, watch his face carefully—you will learn the truth. And if you return to me unconvinced of his guilt, then I will say nothing more about it. But I think that you will see it reflected in his eyes."

"Severus, do you have any idea how twisted this is? The arson could have been committed by any one of a thousand people. I know that you hate him, but look at the position you're putting me in. If I confirm that Sirius 'looks guilty', then I condemn my friend—the man you hate—but I get to be married to you. If I say that he 'looks innocent', then our marriage will be postponed indefinitely. Do you see that you have sort of stacked the deck here, love?" she asked, in tones just a hair too passionate to be truly ironic.

The former spy said nothing for a moment, and when he did speak, it was in a tone so solemn and childlike that it was almost a whisper, "You would be right, except for one thing: the whole enterprise depends on your character. You are too honorable not to seek out the truth and do right by us both. Your sense of justice demands it."

"You have quite the exaggerated opinion of me," she bit out savagely, turning from him.

"No, I don't," he replied in that same low voice, which sounded naïve and adult at the same time.

"But anyway," she continued, beginning to pace in agitation, "I thought you said earlier that I _wasn't_ to seek out Sirius."

"No, but I knew from the moment Molly suggested it that nothing I could say would keep you from going to him," he retorted, and this time she heard a note of angry helplessness in his cultured voice.

"You're wrong," she said, dropping her tone to match his, "You could have forbidden it. I would have complied."

"I know better. You need this," he answered logically, but couldn't quite prevent himself from adding the barb, "You feel a responsibility for him…_an obligation to go and apologize for my survival_."

"Severus! That's an awful thing to say!" she snapped.

"If my choice of words was harsh, the meaning of them was, nonetheless, accurate," the spy snarked.

"That's not true at all! I just want to tell him that I'm sorry for keeping the truth from him after he poured his heart out to me. I want to say that I didn't mean to hurt him," she said, closing her lids and feeling the balls of her eyes throb in rhythmic pulses. She felt very, very tired.

"He understands perfectly why you couldn't tell him, and nothing you can say will ease that sort of hurt. It will only renew his hope. Your presence will only indicate to him that you care for him. He will want to push you to find out how much," Severus told her, and then added dismissively, "I realize that these words are futile. I knew that no argument would prevent you from checking in on him, and if you feel that you ought to go, then I have no right to forbid you. But I feel no remorse about benefitting from your meeting with him—as he certainly plans to do.

"Ask him, Marian. I know men. Trotter did not burn my house, hoping to all hell that I was inside it. A different kind of man did this—a passionate man from a family whose members have always considered themselves above the law, who have killed their enemies without compunction for generations."

"I will ask, and I'll do it tomorrow," she snapped, before she gentled her tone and added, "We are invited to my brother's on Wednesday. Thanksgiving is Thursday. I thought that we might have our ceremony at the Ministry on Wednesday before we go to Texas, and that we could get married in a Muggle chapel on Friday or Saturday before everyone goes home. Is that acceptable to you, or would you like to change anything?"

He shook his head and murmured something about going back to the lab. She let him go, understanding on some level that it was how he worked out his frustration. Even though she pitied him, she still took a slightly vindictive pleasure in the thought that he was as desperate to consummate their relationship as she was. She didn't know whether they ought to sleep in the same bed tonight, but it seemed almost futile to separate, since the longer they stayed away from each other, the more forcefully they sprang back together. Sighing, she realized that she might have to take Dreamless Sleep again. She didn't like dosing herself with potions or drugs, but occasionally found them quite handy—especially when so expertly brewed.

Marian spent the rest of the evening researching honeymoon cottages in the South Seas and calling her relatives. She also Floo-called Tonks, who confirmed Molly's story about Sirius' breakdown, but she didn't seem to make a connection between his behavior and the fire. She was still chasing down the Trotter lead, which had gotten her nowhere, although she _had_ found out that he frequented the prostitutes of Knockturn Alley. But Tonks had been crestfallen when she reported that she didn't have any evidence of him visiting them while on duty. The pink-haired Auror expressed delight that the wedding was back on and promised to attend, but no matter how many times Marian told her otherwise, Tonks was convinced that her advice was responsible for Severus' change of heart. "He wants it, Marian. I told you that he wouldn't be able to hold out," she had said triumphantly. Her friend knew that Tonks seriously underestimated Severus Snape, but finally gave up trying to convince her. Members of the Black family were notoriously stubborn.

That night, Marian didn't take Dreamless Sleep after all. She returned to her room to shower only to find Severus sitting on the bed drying his hair. Even though he had enjoying seeing the Weasleys again, he had grown unaccustomed to socializing, and the effort had worn him out-especially factoring in a full day's work spent over hot cauldrons. He had lit a fire to keep out the evening chill, and after Marian showered, she returned to her office to fetch her laptop. They spent the next hour propped up in bed looking at pictures on her computer of bungalows on black sand beaches. She slowly stroked his hair in a content, unhurried way as he viewed the photos she had marked. They talked softly for a while in tones suffused with joy, as they anticipated the approaching fulfillment of their desires. And that night, with her face pillowed against his warm chest, Marian knew that perfect bliss meant drifting off to sleep in his arms.


End file.
